Undertow
by captaincrackships
Summary: When Mike Schmidt took a job at Freddy Fazbear's, he was already throwing caution to the wind. Now, caught up in a series of unanticipated and perilous events, Mike has to decide if he will fight against the current threatening to sweep him away, or if he will submit to the unfolding of his fate, and make the best of it.
1. Chapter 1: Reflex

_Come on..._

 _Come on...!_

He figured he might be able to will the minutes to pass by more quickly if he focused with all his might...or maybe his mind was desperately trying to distract itself from the threat of his impending doom as his fingers glided across the surface of the tablet of their own accord, requiring little to no guidance from his brain to perform tasks that had long since become muscle memory.

 _5:43..._

It was only his second night of employment at Freddy Fazbear's, but he was well aware of the stories and urban legends plaguing the restaurant- he'd grown up with them, after all. He would be lying if he said he hadn't been at least somewhat interested in finding out if there was any truth behind them when he sought out the job.

Well, he'd certainly confirmed his suspicions at the very least.

He wondered how he would tell his old friends...or if he would tell them at all- they'd probably think he was messing with them at best. At worst, they'd think he was insane.

 _5:48..._

Despite his best efforts to stay focused, Mike Schmidt's mind started to wander...What if he didn't survive to see the morning? What would the world think had happened to him? What would his parents be told? Would they even be informed that he had been killed, or would they remain ignorant of his fate, left to begin a search for their missing son long after he had already passed from this world? Morbid thoughts began to seize control of his mind, rolling over it like a dense fog.

Now, Mike wasn't a superstitious man by any means, but he had always found his imagination spurred by the paranormal...and he wondered what the implications of dying in such a place as this might be. With no proper burial or rite of passing, would his spirit be trapped here in this place, fated to restlessly roam the halls of this damned pizzeria forever more? Mike couldn't help but chuckle at what sounded like the premise for a terribly corny horror flick...

 _-thunk thunk thunk-_

His overactive imagination getting the better of him, he began to picture himself as the restaurant's day staff would find him, stuffed inside a Freddy Fazbear suit, just as the man on the phone had described the first night, his eyeballs drooping out the front of the mask comically as his flayed flesh soaked the inside of the costume with gore...

- _THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK-_

Mike was pulled from his reverie a moment too late- he hadn't been watching the cameras, or his power. As he turned away from his desk towards the source of the noise, he noticed that his power was critically low.

Overwhelmed by thoughts of being forgotten, of breaking his parents' hearts, of the cruel and, frankly, embarrassing fate that awaited him, he found himself springing up out of his chair as if it were on fire. Acting purely on animal instinct, he lashed out and swung his fist at the first thing that moved into his field of vision from the hallway—and connected.

. . .

Now, Mike would have probably been experiencing a great deal of pain if he hadn't been in such a state of adrenaline induced shock. Time seemed to crawl as he watched his fist connect with the red-furred muzzle of none other than Foxy the Pirate, who wore a look of complete and utter surprise that mirrored his attacker's, his eye-patch flipped up in an almost comical fashion.

That brief glimpse was all Mike got, before the restaurant was plunged into darkness. For a moment, the only sound was the foreboding groan of the power dying out, before...

"BLOODY HELL! WRETCHED BILGE-BLASTED SON OF A SEA WENCH! FILTHY BARNACLE-RIDDLED BASTAR-"

Mike was rooted to the spot, completely paralyzed by shock and fear as a veritable geyser of curses spilled forth from somewhere in the darkness in front of him. Mike couldn't even make out what was being said, he was far too busy focused on his impending death, when the furious outburst began to fade out, only to be replaced by...laughter?

Suddenly, a shrill but familiar beeping broke out from the watch he wore on his wrist as the lights flickered back on.

 _6:00..._

He'd survived. He couldn't believe it. Mike's self-congratulatory mood was dampened however when he realized that Foxy was still sitting on the ground outside his office, still laughing a gruff and throaty laugh.

Mike flinched and readied himself as Foxy stood and shot him a seemingly bemused glance before turning and walking back down the hallway, rubbing his snout.

Confused, and going against the already pathetically weak sense of judgment that had led him to come back to this hellhole two nights in a row, Mike leaned out into the hallway.

"The lad's go' some fight in 'im! Best watch yerselves around this one, buckos. He don' pull 'is punches one bit!" Foxy called excitedly to seemingly nobody as he continued to walk back to the cove. Who was he talking to...?

Oh. The other animatronics. Of course. Logic would dictate that if Foxy could talk, the others could too...

Rather than allow the implications of that terrifying discovery to blossom in his mind, Mike elected to grab his belongings and flee from the office as fast as his legs would carry him. He caught a glimpse of the star-spangled curtains of Pirate's Cove falling closed as he turned sharply at the end of the hall and launched himself through the restaurant's main entrance before whirling around and locking the doors behind him.

Not stopping to catch his breath, Mike bolted to his car, threw himself inside, jammed his keys into the ignition and proceeded to run three red lights as he sped home, adrenaline still screaming through his veins.

It was only when he had entered his apartment and collapsed on his well-worn and tattered sofa that he released the breath that he felt like he'd been holding since the power went out at the restaurant. His mind was reeling and his body was so exhausted that he was unable to grasp onto a single coherent thought and, mercifully, he succumbed to sleep almost immediately...


	2. Chapter 2: Schmidt's Gambit

Mike awoke with a jolt, his neck stiff and sore from his awkward sleeping arrangements. He was distracted by the stiffness in his neck as a dull ache faded in from elsewhere on his body. Mike lifted his right hand into his field of vision, immediately taking notice of the bruised and swollen knuckles which sparked his memory within moments, calling back into the forefront of his mind the events of the night before...

 _A flash of red, a numbing pain in his right fist, paralyzing fear, panic, confusion...relief giving way to panic once more._

Mike eased himself back into a resting position on the couch, the most obvious question bubbling up into his mind...

Why hadn't Foxy killed him?

Sure, he'd taken the animatronic by surprise, and by some miracle had managed to briefly incapacitate the fox, but looking back on the incident, Mike realized that Foxy would have had more than enough time to kill him once the power had gone out...why hadn't he?

Once again, Mike's better judgment attempted to deter him, but his curiosity was piqued- he had to go back. Lifting himself up off of the couch, he shuffled into his tiny kitchen and began pulling out the items he would need to prepare himself a meager breakfast. He scowled at his limited options. As grateful as he was that he could at least afford fresh eggs, the lack of variation in his diet was starting to grate on his nerves. Money had been tight ever since he had moved out of his parents' house, and employment had been difficult to come by. This is what had ultimately driven him to the doors of Freddy Fazbear's, even if his interest in the place is what had tempted him to consider working there from the start.

As Mike chewed his overcooked eggs and dry toast – butter and jam were luxuries he simply couldn't afford at the moment – he began to plan his approach to that night's shift. He would go in early to better scope out the place, and maybe, just maybe...take a peek behind the curtains of Pirate's Cove. Fully aware of just how risky and potentially reckless his plan might be, Mike resolved to go for a run after finishing his breakfast...after all, he might be needing to rely on his body to keep him alive if his mind failed him once again, as it had last night. Besides, a good workout would help clear his head and give him a chance to sort out his thoughts, something he needed desperately.

* * *

Mike pulled into the parking lot of Freddy Fazbear's at 10:30 PM, just as the janitorial staff were locking up and heading home for the evening. He waited in his car until he was certain everyone else had vacated the premises before slipping out into the cool night air. Walking around to the back of his old beater of a car, he opened the trunk and pulled out a bag of supplies he had packed. He had considered bringing a weapon or two, and ultimately decided upon the baseball bat his father had given him for his 17th birthday. He didn't intend to use it unless he absolutely had to, as he was fairly certain that he would be fired and possibly sued for damages to company property if he did, but just having it with him made him feel more at ease.

He unlocked the front doors as carefully and quietly as he could before creeping into the restaurant proper, casting a glance at the three figures on stage who all stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Satisfied, Mike proceeded to his office and unloaded his things. Donning the indigo baseball cap bearing the word 'SECURITY' in gold across the front, he poked his head out the left hallway. He glanced at his watch...it was only 10:50. There was more than enough time before his shift began. Mike began to consider his options, and wondered if it might be best to wait until a little more time had passed. The last thing he wanted was to inadvertently activate the animatronics an hour earlier than they otherwise would have.

Mike sat in his chair and picked up the tablet. He quickly flicked through each camera and noticed that nothing was out of place, and most importantly, each animatronic was in its proper place. Or at least, he assumed that was the case, as all he could see of Pirate's Cove was that damn curtain. Mike's thoughts drifted once more to his encounter with Foxy the night before. He recalled the look on the animatronic's face and couldn't help but chuckle. However, another feeling settled into his chest shortly thereafter...

Guilt? Why did he feel the least bit guilty? He was defending himself!

Still, the pirate's reaction, and his apparent sentience, had taken Mike by complete surprise. He now felt the compelling need to explain himself, and possibly apologize for his actions.

With newfound resolve, Mike rose from his seat and glanced at his watch. 11:30. Perfect. It was enough time to hopefully sate his curiosity without running the risk of overextending his limited supply of power should things take a turn for the worst.

Mike considered grabbing the baseball bat from his duffel bag on his way out of the office, but decided against it. He didn't want to be seen with it and perceived as a threat unless he absolutely intended to use it. He could always retreat to the office at the first sign of danger.

Mike slowly crept down the hallway, doing his best to silence his footsteps on the dingy tile floor, made difficult by the fact that every once in a while his foot would stick to the linoleum floor- remnants of a sugary drink spilled by one of the day's clientele no doubt- and he would pause to ensure that the noise hadn't drawn any unwanted attention.

Finally arriving at Pirate's Cove, Mike noticed that his journey had taken him far longer than he had planned due to his caution. 11:40. He didn't have much time to hesitate, so drawing a deep breath, he pulled back the star-spangled curtains and slipped through them into the darkness.

Retrieving the flashlight from the pouch on his uniform's belt, he flicked it on and began searching the room. It didn't take long before the shaft of light fell over the inanimate red form of Foxy. Mike panicked and flicked off the light, muscles tensed and coiled as he was prepared to flee at the slightest suggestion of movement.

Nothing. Mike allowed himself to exhale after a minute or so and turned the flashlight on, finding, to his immense relief, that the fox had not moved an inch. Mike slowly approached the slumbering animatronic, coming to a stop a good distance away.

He felt a slight panic begin to spread through his mind. Now that he was here, he wasn't quite sure what to do. Should he say something? Would Foxy even hear him? What would he even say?

Forcing the words past his tongue, as thick and stupid and refusing to cooperate as it was, he finally managed to begin.

"Hey, Foxy." Mike whispered.

Receiving no response, he swallowed hard and stepped closer before continuing...

"Look, about yesterday. I wanted... to apologize, I suppose. I'm not even sure if you can hear me right now, but I felt pretty shitty about sucker punching you, even if you did deserve it, trying to, y'know, kill me and all..." Mike's voice trailed off as he wondered what he would possibly say next. The dull ache in his right hand reminded him. He lifted it up to the fox's face and began unraveling the gauze he had wrapped it with earlier that day.

"If it makes you feel any better, your face did a number on my hand. Honestly, I probably did more damage to myself than I did to you..." a small chuckle escaped Mike's lips.

"Anyway, that's really all I wanted to say. I'd understand if you're still pissed, but the way I see it, we're more or less even. I've got enough to deal with with the others, so it'd be great if you don't decide to have some sort of vendetta against me because I hit you," Mike finished with a sigh.

As expected, there was no response from the animatronic standing before him, and for that he was both relieved and...somewhat disappointed. He didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as his watch reminded him that he had only 5 minutes before his shift began.

He turned and walked to the cove's entrance, but as he parted the curtains to exit, he could have sworn he heard muffled sounds coming from the back of the cove...not unlike the gruff laughter he had heard the night before. Dread overtaking him, he whirled around and flashed his torch in the direction he had come from, the pillar of light revealing once more the form of Foxy, who had not budged an inch from the spot he was in moments before.

Satisfied, and convinced that it must have been his paranoia getting the better of him, Mike wasted no time in hurrying back to his office to prepare for the animatronic onslaught.

* * *

Two hours had gone by, and already Mike was exhausted. Bonnie and Chica seemed exceptionally active tonight, and were not cutting him a break. They seemed almost...aggressive, and didn't spend as much time wandering between rooms, instead electing to make repeated visits to the office. It was currently 2:45 AM, and Chica could be seen standing outside his office, peering through the window. Mike could have sworn that she looked...angry, if such a thing was even possible. Rather than departing down the hallway to mess about in the kitchen, she held vigil at the window and simply glared icily at Mike.

Mike suspected that Chica was trying to get him to waste his power by keeping one of his doors shut, or, to distract him long enough such that Bonnie could flank him from the other side. He knew he was taking a huge risk in keeping the doors open at this point, but he decided to call her bluff. Clutching the aluminum composite baseball bat firmly beneath the desk, he cycled through the cameras once more.

The curtain of Pirate's Cove remained undisturbed- Foxy had not shown himself once since his shift began...had the pirate heard his words after all?

Not allowing himself to be distracted, Mike's head snapped to the left as soon as he heard muffled footsteps outside his door. Jabbing the 'Light' switch, Mike suppressed a scream as Bonnie's face was illuminated in the doorway. Immediately, Mike punched the 'Door' switch, bringing it crashing down, before flicking the 'Light' switch on the other side of the room, revealing Chica- a knowing grin on her face. Deciding he'd rather not risk anything, Mike closed the other door as well, hoping the pair would grow disinterested and leave.

They did not.

Mike began to panic as minutes passed by and neither animatronic budged from their post outside his office. He glanced at his tablet..it wasn't even 4AM, and he only had 27% power remaining...

"H-hey! You guys can't do this! It's not fair! Fuck off!" Mike surprised both the animatronics and himself by shouting. He saw Chica frown at him and place her wings on her hips in a seemingly irritated response.

Catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Bonnie move in front of the office window to glare at him as well, one eyebrow raised as if questioning the night guard's courage.

Mike wilted under their collective gaze and began considering his options...

One: he was fucked.

Well, that was about it, honestly.

As Mike tightened his already white-knuckled grip on the weapon he had concealed beneath his desk, he heard something...something new.

 _"Ahuh-ahuh..huh-huh-huh..."_

A deep, echoing laugh that sent chills up his spine filled the restaurant. There was no doubt in his mind from the moment he heard it who that laugh belonged to: Freddy Fazbear. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Bonnie shoot Chica a surprised glance through the office windows. Chica simply shrugged in response before shuffling off down the hallway, Bonnie following suit shortly thereafter. What had just happened? Clearly only Fazbear could command such control over his band-mates, but why had he called them back...if that was what had indeed just happened?

Regardless, Mike breathed a temporary sigh of relief when he picked up the tablet and noticed all three band-members were standing on the stage once more. He opened both doors before loosening his grip on the baseball bat and shaking out his right hand- it seemed to be hurting now more than ever.

 _Great_. Mike thought to himself. _With my luck, it's probably fractured. Stupid pirate._

As if summoned by his private monologue, Mike heard another new sound drift into the office through the open doors as it reverberated throughout the restaurant.

 _"Da-da-dum-dum—da-dum-dum-dum-deedly-dum-dum-do-diddly-dum.."_

... _What the hell..?_ Mike thought to himself. This place was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. Checking his tablet once more out of habit, it seemed like nothing was out of place, he had 21% power remaining and it was now 4:45 AM. Provided there were no more surprises, he felt confident in his ability to survive the night.

That is, until he turned to camera 1C.

The curtains in Pirate's Cove were drawn back, and Foxy was nowhere to be found.

Color draining from his face, Mike went to return his grasp to the baseball bat as he jumped up from his chair, but his numb and aching hand caused him to lose his grip and fumble it. Mike dumbly watched the bat clatter to the ground, and as if on auto-pilot, he bent down to retrieve it, even though his mind was screaming at him to _close the fucking door!_

 _. . ._

"Ol' big-ears and pizza-beak seem to be givin' ye a run for yer booty tonigh', eh?"

 _You idiot._

Mike gasped and jolted upright to find Foxy the Pirate leaning casually on the door-frame of his office, arms crossed and shooting the security guard the same bemused glance he wore the night before.

Mike began to panic, and considered his options once more. For one, Foxy was standing _in the doorway_ , all he had to do was bring the door crashing down and...!

Mike had barely moved his arm to reach for the switch when Foxy spoke once more.

"I wouldn' try it if I were ye."

Mike froze, and as if by reflex his body began executing 'plan B', his grip tightening on the weapon in his hands. Foxy noticed this, too.

"What, ye gonna hit me again? I tho' ye was all sorry fer hittin' me t'other night?"

Mike's mouth fell open as he gaped dumbly at the animatronic in front of him. His every move had been anticipated, and not only that, the fox was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He had indeed attempted to apologize for his actions on the previous night in a desperate attempt to spare himself from the animatronic's reprisal, but now that his plan had seemingly worked, he found he had no idea what to do next.

Sensing this, Foxy continued.

"Ye seem a wee bit conflicted, mate. Fer starters, how abou' ya lower yer weapon there an' we talk like proper gents, savvy?"

Mike found himself complying unthinkingly, as he slowly lowered the weapon to his side, refusing to let go of it, however.

The two stared at each other for what felt like hours, neither knowing what to do or say next. Foxy's obviously damaged and slackened jaw making it look like the pirate was perpetually preparing to speak.

"A-aren't you going to...kill me?" Mike finally managed, disgusted at the weakness in his own voice.

Foxy continued to stare at the guard, as Mike shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Foxy began examining his hook with apparent interest as he responded.

"Nah. Took a lotta' guts ta' do what ye did last night, an' even more ta' come to me cove and 'pologize fer it, I'd wager. Say, wha's yer name, lad?" Foxy said, looking up at the man.

Mike found himself blushing at the compliment- he'd certainly never been commended for his bravery before, and even coming from a make-believe pirate captain the words felt somewhat reassuring.

"Ah, M-Mike Schmidt...sir," Mike added hastily.

Foxy regarded him with a deadpan gaze, the only hint of emotion displayed on his face being a single raised eyebrow, before he suddenly doubled over and began laughing a deep belly laugh, startling the young man and causing him to jump and take a step backwards.

"'Sir!'" Foxy gasped between fits of laughter, making a motion to wipe away a non-existent tear from under his good eye with his hook as he stood up straight once more.

"Now tha's a firs'! I think I like ya', Mikey! How's about ye join me crew, eh? O'course, we'd have ta' start ye' off as cabin-boy, everyone's gotta start somewhere, af'er all, but who knows, ye might be worthy o' bein' me new first mate! How's about it, lad?"

Mike was dumbfounded. Was this actually happening...? Was an animatronic entertainer at a kid-themed restaurant, that had been seemingly hell-bent on murdering him the night before, no less, now asking him to join his imaginary pirate crew...?

Yup. That was all the confirmation Mike needed. He really was losing his mind.

"S-sure. I'd like that, Foxy. Er...Captain," he found himself replying.

After all, what choice did he have? Something told him that refusing the fox's offer was not in his best interest. He couldn't help but compare the sinking feeling growing in his gut to what he felt when he was nearly sucked out to sea one day at the beach when he was very young, when the undertow grabbed hold of him and dragged him beneath the waves, refusing to relinquish its hold as he tumbled helplessly in the darkness...

"Aha! Tha's great boyo!" Foxy exclaimed as he stepped into the office, startling Mike out of his morbid daydream as the animatronic slung his be-hooked arm around the shorter man's shoulder.

"You an' me, Mikey. We're gonna' have all sorts a' grand adventures. Jus' you wait."

As the pirate captain laughed heartily beside him, Mike couldn't help but think to himself...

 _I've lost control of my life._

* * *

 **[A/N] So there you have it! Hope you're enjoying it so far. Please leave a review, and please be honest, I can handle criticism. More to come. Thanks for reading. - Cap**


	3. Chapter 3: Swabbie

Mike stared at the cracked and chipping paint of his bedroom ceiling, a favorite pastime of his when he had a lot on his mind. To say that he was attempting to determine if he would return to the restaurant or not for that night's shift would be a lie. He had already decided that he would be going back, of that much he was certain. What he was less certain of was how he would manage to still be alive come this time tomorrow. Would Foxy really try to protect him from the others, just because Mike was now part of his 'crew'? Was he even capable of such a feat? What if this was all a game to the pirate, and he really had no intention of aiding Mike if push came to shove?

Unanswered questions only bred more questions in Mike's mind. What made Foxy behave so differently from the others? Did it have something to do with his being 'Out of Order?' What was Freddy's role or involvement in the situation? Thus far the bear had yet to show his hand, and remained an enigma, which terrified Mike more than anything else.

Deciding to have faith in his new 'friend', if he could even call Foxy that, Mike pulled himself up out of bed and began preparing for his shift.

* * *

Mike walked through the doors of Freddy Fazbear's at 11:50 PM- he had always prided himself on his punctuality.

Casting a cautious glance at the show stage, he saw Freddy, Bonnie and Chica in their proper places, each looking poised to launch into another rendition of " _Celebrate_!", the song they sang to lucky birthday boys and girls dozens of times a day, on average. Mike surprised himself in feeling even the tiniest ounce of pity at the band's fate to repeat the same meaningless monotony day in and day out for years on end, but it quickly turned sour when he recalled the horrifying sight of Bonnie's face peering into his office door the nights before.

Mike sauntered into his office, finding it exactly as he had left it the night before, his duffel bag still safely stowed beneath the desk. He hadn't had many concerns about leaving it, there were few reasons for any of the daytime staff to come back here, after all, with the closing of Pirate Cove the clientele were restricted to the one main party hall which made them fairly easy to monitor and invalidated any need for more than one day-shift security guard.

Easing himself into the now-familiar (and surprisingly comfortable) swivel chair, he picked up the tablet and set to work.

The very instant he powered the tablet on and went to check the cameras, however...

"Everythin' ship-shape Mr. Schmidt?"

It took every fiber of Mike's being not to scream like a small child, turning his neck so quickly it was a miracle he didn't snap it, he saw none other than Foxy, peering over his shoulder at the tablet in his hands.

"Don't. Do. That. Ever. Again...please," Mike choked out, still visibly shaken.

Foxy sneered at the poor man and stepped back a few paces, allowing Mike to fully appreciate just how much the animatronic towered over him at full height. It was then that Mike also noticed the rather large burlap sack slung over the pirate's shoulder, looking like it was for the most part, empty.

Mike raised an eyebrow and stared pointedly at it. "What's that for?" he muttered.

" _Captain,"_ Foxy returned, curtly.

Mike blinked and stared back for a number of seconds, confused, before not-so-subtly rolling his eyes in realization and inquiring once more.

"What's that for, _Captain_?"

Satisfied, Foxy continued. "This be fer tonigh'! We'll be needing it ta' get ye started on yer duties as the newest member of me crew!"

"Newest and _only_ member..." Mike muttered under his breath.

"Wha' was tha'?"

"Nothing. So, what's in the sack?" Mike asked, attempting to change the subject.

Foxy grinned toothily and held the sack out in front of him. "Take a look fer yerself!"

Mike stood and peered down through the open mouth of the sack, not seeing much of anything in the dim light of the office.

"It looks empty to mEEE!" Mike exclaimed as Foxy, in one deft movement, threw the bag over Mike's head, pulled it down to his feet and swept his legs out from underneath him. In a shocking show of strength, Foxy was now holding the captured and struggling Mike Schmidt with one arm, two feet above the ground.

"H-hey! What're you DOING?!" Mike demanded from inside the sack, beginning to panic. Was this it? Had he truly been deceived so easily? Was Foxy going to bring him back to the others and deliver him like the sack of meat he was?

"Quiet! Do ye wan' ta' draw the others to ye? They be on ye like a pack o' sharks if ye keep up yer whinin'!" Foxy scolded, satisfied when the struggling within the bag lessened.

"Tha's more like it. Alrighty, Mr. Schmidt, we're off!" Foxy added cheerily as he started moving.

 _Moving...moving!?_ He couldn't tell where they were going, but they were definitely on the move. Mike's heart was hammering in his chest, pumping blood ever faster to his brain as he was suspended upside down, swaying back and forth in the sack. He wanted nothing more than to scream and thrash in an attempt to escape from his kidnapper, but he knew that the fox was right- if he did, the others would be upon him in seconds.

"And what are you up to, Foxy?"

The blood in Mike's veins froze as Foxy came to a stop. He didn't even dare draw breath, straining his ears to hear what he assumed must have been none other than Freddy Fazbear had to say next.

"What have you got there?" Freddy demanded.

A momentary silence passed, during which Mike wrenched his eyes shut, face contorted in fearful anticipation of what he expected to happen next- being dumped out onto the show stage at the feet of a host of murderous robots.

"Jus' some cleanin' supplies. Fer the cove, y'see," Foxy replied, casually.

"Is that so?" Freddy responded, tone neutral.

"Aye. Cannae' have th' place teemin' with mice or other li'l beasties now can we? T'wouldn't be safe, fer tha' kiddies, savvy?"

Freddy considered Foxy's words for a few moments. He had to admit, the fox had a point. This _was_ a family establishment, after all, and the place certainly had a less-than-stellar record...a public health violation would probably be enough to put them under indefinitely at this point. Freddy inwardly commended the pirate on his dedication to the continued success of the restaurant, even if he was no longer an active participant in its daily operation.

"I see. I suppose the staff have been fairly...neglectful. I am sorry for that. Carry on," Freddy finished, apparently satisfied with the pirate's explanation.

Foxy gave a mock salute to the band as he continued onward to the cove, pulling back the curtains and stepping through, feeling an immense sense of relief wash over him. Despite his air of confidence, he was well aware of how poorly that encounter could have otherwise gone.

Walking to the back of the cove, Foxy hauled the burlap sack from its position over his shoulder and, quite unceremoniously, dumped the tangled form of Mike Schmidt onto the floor.

Mike met the floor with a grunt, immediately shooting Foxy an icy glare. Foxy merely shrugged in response and walked over to the corner of the room. Mike once again found himself in Pirate Cove...the place was definitely much larger on the inside than it appeared to be. As such, he found it extremely difficult to orient himself, but he did notice a few props scattered about the cove, obvious remnants of Foxy's old routine, from before he was 'retired.' Mike made a mental note to ask about that later.

Foxy returned and placed some objects on the floor. Mike had to pick each one up and examine them in the dim light to determine their identity. A mop, a bucket, and a few tastelessly re-branded "Freddy Fazbear" water bottles. Mike looked up at the pirate, confused.

"I wasn' lyin' when I told ol' Fazbear tha' th' cove'd be gittin' swabbed." Foxy grinned, a gleam evident in his uncovered eye as he peered down at Mike's look of contempt, watching as it gradually morphed into one of begrudging acceptance.

"Aye, aye... _Captain,_ " Mike sighed bitterly as he began pouring the contents of the water bottles into the dingy bucket he had been provided with, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

 **[A/N] And so the star-spangled curtain closes on Chapter 3. As always, reviews and critique are appreciated. Thanks for reading. ~ Cap**


	4. Chapter 4: Hide-and-seek

Well, at least he wasn't dead. That was something to be glad for, he thought, as the mop in his hands squelched along the filthy floor of Pirate Cove. Mumbling something under his breath about "grand adventures," Mike submerged the mop in the small bucket of dirty water before bringing it back to the grimy ground with a sickening slap. Was he even cleaning anything or just pushing the dirt around? He could hardly see what he was doing. He glanced over at Foxy who was currently leaning against the pirate ship prop in the center of the room, watching him work. Why couldn't he do something remotely helpful, Mike thought bitterly, like shine the flashlight on the spots he was trying to clean so he could actually see what he was doing?

Deciding to suggest this, Mike was about to open his mouth when he suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain erupt in his right foot.

Foxy saw Mike's eyes fly open and heard the sharp intake of breath, and, knowing what was coming next, immediately cranked up the output on his voice-box before...

"AHHHhhh! Agh! Shit!" Mike exclaimed, falling backwards onto his rear as he extricated his large toe from the exposed nail it had been impaled on. On the main show stage, Freddy Fazbear turned his attention towards Pirate Cove, convinced he had heard a rather peculiar noise...

Fortunately, Foxy had had the presence of mind to begin humming his pirate shanty at full volume in an attempt to mask Mike's cries of anguish. Still humming, Foxy peered out of the curtains at the main stage to check for signs of activity. By some miracle, it seemed that his plan had worked, as Freddy seemed to decide the noise he thought he had heard was, in fact, not worth investigating, and turned his attention away from the cove once more.

'Breathing' a sigh of relief, Foxy made his way over to where Mike sat on the ground, clutching his foot.

"Blazes, lad, wha' happened?" Foxy whispered.

"Stepped...on a nail," Mike hissed through clenched teeth, making a conscious effort to keep his voice low.

"Alrigh' let's see it, c'mon," Foxy encouraged as Mike gingerly removed his shoe.

Luckily, the shoe had prevented the nail from entering far enough to cause any serious damage to Mike's toe, but there was still a decent amount of blood, as made evident by the dark red splotch on Mike's sock.

Nodding, Foxy stood and walked over to one of the many treasure chest props that littered the cove and opened it, pulling out a small, white plastic box and carrying it over to his injured swabbie. Kneeling down before the night guard, he began pulling items out of the box. Mike recognized it immediately as a first-aid kit.

"No worries matey, we'll have ye fixed up an' in ship-shape in no time!" Foxy added cheerily as he applied gauze to the wound as Mike gasped.

"Ye alrigh'?" Foxy asked, pulling back a bit, worried that he had hurt the night guard further.

"Y-yeah, it's not that, it's just...I had the most intense feeling of déjà vu just now..." Mike's voice trailed off as he lost himself in thought.

Not having the slightest clue what a "déjà vu" was, Foxy quickly finished tending to the wound while Mike was distracted, before collecting the first-aid supplies back into the kit.

"Wow, you're...really good at that," Mike observed, somewhat surprised, as he inspected his now clean and tightly wrapped toe.

"Aye," Foxy replied as he placed the first-aid kit back inside the chest, "wasn' uncommon for rowdy li'l sailors to hurt 'emselve's while playin' in ol' Foxy's cove. Had 'ta know 'ow to calm 'em and fin' an adult 'ta tend to 'em. Af'er watchin' 'em so many times, wasn' hard ta' figure out how 'ta field dress a wound or two."

"Well...thanks," Mike said.

"O'course! A captain always takes care a' 'is crew," Foxy stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world before continuing, "and now ye can get back ta' swabbin' tha' deck!"

Mike's feelings of gratitude towards the fox evaporated almost instantaneously. Frowning, he carefully placed his shoe back onto his foot and resumed his task, making sure to watch for any other hazards that may be lurking in the dark...

* * *

Bonnie had grown bored of staring into the camera backstage, and re-arranging the spare costume heads, although a favored pastime of his, could only entertain him for so long. It was time to go pay a visit to the office!

Walking out into the main party hall, he glanced over at the entrance to Pirate Cove to ensure that Foxy was not preparing to make a run- Bonnie always made sure to avoid finding himself in the unfortunate position of being in the hallway when Foxy decided to come sprinting down it. He'd made that mistake once before. Seeing the purple curtains were drawn closed, he decided that now was as good a time as any to make his move.

Bonnie was feeling somewhat mischievous tonight, so he decided to mess with the night guard a little bit. Instead of walking directly to the office, he came to a halt at the and of the west hallway and lurked ominously in the low light before slowly creeping forward once more. When he reached the door leading to the supply closet, he quickly ducked inside, commending himself for his stealthy maneuver. Now, why there was a security camera in the supply closet at all was beyond him- it seemed like an awfully strange place to put one. Nevertheless, he enjoyed glancing into it from time to time to set the night guard on edge.

Truthfully, that wasn't the only reason Bonnie liked to spend time in the supply closet. The otherwise suffocatingly small space felt...safe, and comforting. It was his hideaway that he would often retreat to after a particularly difficult day, or when he found that he just needed to be alone. His thoughts drifted to the night guard, noticing that he had not heard a sound come from the office all night. He supposed Foxy had been right when he said that this night guard was fairly brave...he had also successfully managed to repel them all thus far. If he was being honest with himself, Bonnie felt somewhat compelled to meet this particular night guard, even though Freddy had forbidden his band-mates from speaking with the night guards long ago. For some reason, he very much wanted to know what made this particular human tick.

Curiosity piqued, Bonnie emerged from the supply closet and stared down the west hallway, towards the office. The door was still open...but he knew that it would slam closed as soon as he neared, as it always did. Trying to remain hopeful, he crept along, heavy footfalls muffled by the padded fabric covering his metal limbs. Growing more and more excited as he drew ever nearer, he could barely contain himself when he rounded the corner and looked into the office to find...!

Nothing. The office was unoccupied. Not a night guard in sight.

Bonnie took a few uncertain steps into the office, a slight rush of victorious exhilaration washing over him merely from gaining entry to the small room. He decided to check for the night guard under the desk, where he found nothing but a bag with a few items inside that he did not recognize. He even lifted the small swivel chair above his head, just to be certain that he had checked everywhere. Confused, Bonnie stood inside the office for good ten minutes before slowly making his way out of the room and returning the way he came.

From his position on the main stage, Freddy saw Bonnie shuffle into the dining area looking particularly perplexed.

"Something the matter, Bonnie?" Freddy called to his band-mate.

"I'm not sure..." Bonnie responded "but when I went to the office just now, I didn't see anybody there! The doors were open and everything..."

"Is that so?" Freddy mumbled as his eyes widened at the news. "Well, we can't be having that," he continued, "why don't you go find Chica and have her help you look? I'm sure our 'friend' couldn't have gone far..."

Bonnie nodded before wordlessly plodding off in the direction of the kitchen, as Freddy shifted his gaze towards Pirate Cove, eyes narrowed in suspicion...

* * *

In Pirate Cove, Mike's task was nearing its completion when Foxy thought he heard a familiar noise coming from just outside the cove, his ears swiveling and straining to identify the source. In a moment of realization, Foxy cleared the space between where he had been standing and where Mike was cleaning, abruptly grabbing the night guard and carrying him over to one of the empty treasure chest props in the back of the cove.

"Wha-" Mike opened his mouth to protest, only to receive a silencing glare in return. Understanding immediately, Mike made no complaints as he was stuffed into the chest and plunged into darkness as the lid was pushed shut.

Thinking quickly, Foxy bounded over to where the now abandoned mop lay, bending over to snatch it up just as Freddy Fazbear parted the curtains to enter Pirate Cove.

"Good evening, Foxy," Freddy said, announcing his presence as he stood near the cove's entrance, hands folded behind his back.

"Ahoy, Freddy! I didn' hear ye come in!" Foxy lied, as he spun around to face the bear.

"Indeed," Freddy returned as he began pacing around the room, looking anywhere but at Foxy.

"...there somethin' I can help ye with?" Foxy offered, hesitantly.

"Oh, no, don't mind me. Bonnie tells me that our night guard has gone... missing. He, along with Chica, is searching for the man as we speak," stated Freddy matter-of-factly.

"Tha' so? Lily-livered landlubber must've abandoned 'is post and gone runnin' with 'is tail between 'his legs," Foxy sneered as Mike scowled in his hiding place.

"Hmm. Perhaps you're right. Though, one of us would have seen him leave, if that were the case," Freddy added contemplatively as he began shifting the old and dusty props around.

"Maybe tha' lad didn' report to 'is post in the firs' place? It's 'appened before," Foxy offered hopefully, growing more and more nervous the closer Freddy came to the chest which contained the terrified night guard.

"That had occurred to me as a possibility as well..." said Freddy, as he opened the first treasure chest before continuing, "however, I noticed that the electronic device in the office which the guard uses was still powered on..."

 _Drat._ Foxy thought to himself.

 _Shit!_ Mike swore under his breath. If the fox had either showed up a moment sooner or not thrown a damned burlap sack over his head and kidnapped him, the tablet would've been turned off!

Heart pounding in his chest, threatening to give him away, Mike could tell Freddy was getting close. He could hear the old floors groan in protest under his considerable weight.

Foxy began to panic as well when Freddy stopped directly in front of the chest which contained his prize. This was it. The point of no return. If Foxy attempted to save the guard in outright defiance of Freddy...

However, just as Freddy placed his hand on the lid, a thundering crash was heard, sounding like it had come from the direction of the kitchen.

With a sigh, Freddy turned and began making his way to the entrance of the cove, passing an elated Foxy who was trying his best not to show it. Freddy turned to address the pirate as he parted the curtains to leave.

"Well, it would seem that I am needed elsewhere. If you should happen to find..." Freddy's voice trailed off as something caught his eye. The sliver of light spilling forth from the crack in the curtains caused something on the ground to gently glisten. Freddy stared at the peculiar object, eyes narrowed in concentration, until he realized what it was... a small, upturned nail covered in a dark, slightly viscous substance...and it was still wet.

"Somethin' the matter, mate?" Foxy questioned, twisting his hook in anticipation, eager to set the bear on his way.

Turning his attention back to the pirate, Freddy shook his head.

"No...it is nothing. Farewell," he said, sounding perturbed as he finally exited the cove, much to the relief of animatronic fox and human guard alike.

* * *

 **[A/N] This chapter was just getting way too long, had to find a stopping point that made sense, but didn't want to leave you guys on a cliffhanger. Also, have some Bonnie. As always, reviews are appreciated. Let me know what you think so far. Thanks for reading. ~ Cap**


	5. Chapter 5: Hear Me Out

Two glowing orbs of yellow light could be seen between a crack in the lilac colored curtains of Pirate Cove, as Foxy tracked the retreating form of Freddy Fazbear, wanting to be certain that the bear wouldn't be gracing them with a repeat appearance.

Once he was convinced that the bear was not coming back, Foxy walked to the back of the cove and threw open the lid of the treasure chest containing Mike Schmidt, who burst from his hiding place flailing his arms as if he were on fire. Foxy simply watched, dumbfounded as Mike gradually calmed down, occasionally slapping his arms and legs while mouthing silent curses. Eventually, Mike righted himself and turned toward Foxy, who was giving him a skeptical look.

" _Spiders,"_ Mike gasped, breathlessly, "I fucking _hate_ spiders." he finished with a visceral shudder, slapping his arms and legs once more for good measure.

"An' 'ere I tho' I was lyin' to ol' Fazbear when I said ye was a coward," Foxy said, snickering.

"Fuck off," Mike grumbled, "spiders are the _worst_. Y'know, between the goddamn spiders, the hole I now have in my big toe and 'Business Bear' being seconds away from tearing my damn head off, I can safely say that tonight has been one of the worst experiences of my life, bar none," he spat.

Foxy visibly deflated a bit at that, ears lowering and arms hanging limply at his sides as he stared at the ground.

 _Damn it. Maybe that was a little harsh._ Mike thought as he sighed and shook his head, approaching the crestfallen fox. "Look, it's not your fault, alright? I really appreciate what you did, hiding me from Fazbear and all." Mike placed his hand on the animatronic's arm. "Really. I do. Maybe just...no more mopping?"

Foxy brightened a bit at that. "Aye, lad," he said with a nod and the slightest suggestion of a smile, "no more swabbin'. Ye done a fine job."

Mike smiled a bit in return. He honestly enjoyed seeing the fox happy, and he was well aware of the fact that Foxy was the only thing standing between him and a grisly death in this place. It was definitely in his best interest to stay in Foxy's good graces if he not only wanted to keep his eyeballs on the inside of his head, but also collect a regular, if meager, paycheck. He realized then that the two of them had never really gotten a chance to talk, and now that the others were likely occupied on the opposite end of the restaurant, it was as good a time as any to start.

"So..." Mike offered, weakly, "...what do you do in your spare time?" _What a stupid question, I know exactly what these guys do in their 'spare time'..._

"Nothin' much ta' do. I mos'ly jus' sit in me cove and think. Sometimes I like ta' watch the li'l sailors enjoyin' 'emselves..." Foxy trailed off, sounding distant.

Mike nodded solemnly before a sudden realization dawned on him. "Wait, what? Don't you go inactive during the day? The others-"

Foxy shook his head. "When they put me 'out o' order'," he said with disdain evident in his voice, "they jus' erased me routine from me programmin'- didn' replace it wit' anythin' else. "

"So...you were active when I came here for the first time...?" Mike asked, the realization washing over him made him feel a bit queasy. How easily he could have lost his life that night, if Foxy had simply decided to gut him like a fish.

"Aye," said Foxy, with a grin, "I was playin' possum. Wanted ta' see what ye had ta' say fer yerself."

Mike was silent. A plan beginning to form at the edges of his mind. He needed more information.

"This place really is filthy... How long has it been since anyone's been back here, anyway? Days? ... Weeks?" Mike asked cautiously, not all that surprised when he noticed Foxy was glaring at him.

"...Months?" Mike pressed, hesitantly.

"If ye be tryin' to raise me hackles, boy, it be workin'," Foxy growled lowly in warning, eyes narrowing to slits.

Mike raised his hands in front of him in a non-threatening gesture. "No, no! I'm going somewhere with this, I promise, just hear me out," he added pleadingly.

Collecting his thoughts as Foxy stared at him expectantly, he pressed on. "You said yourself that nobody ever comes back here, you don't go inactive during the day, this place is disgusting and neglected, and you have nothing to do but sit here..."

"You should come home with me when my shift ends." Mike finished.

Foxy gaped at the night guard in shock, eyes wide. He certainly hadn't anticipated _that_. His first thought was to say 'no', as a myriad of reasons why going home with Mike would be a bad idea floated through his mind, but the more he thought about it...

Mike could tell Foxy was conflicted, so he decided to try and sweeten the deal a bit.

"I noticed your jaw is busted. I'm no engineer, but I'm fairly handy with basic repairs... I could try and fix it for you, if you want? I've got some tools back at my apartment."

That had done it, Mike could practically see the battle Foxy was fighting against his own willpower coming to an end as a grin spread across his muzzle.

"Alrigh', Mikey... ye convinced me. I'd be glad ta' accompany ye back ta' yer port o' call."

"Great!" Mike practically shouted, worried for a moment that it might have been a bit too loud. After a brief pause to ensure he hadn't attracted any unwanted attention, he continued, "now we just have to figure out how we're going to get you out of here..."

* * *

Mike emerged from Pirate Cove at 5:55 AM. He figured that no matter what happened, five minutes wasn't nearly enough time for him to be captured _and_ stuffed into a bear suit. As it turned out, the band had yet to return to their places on stage- obviously still distracted by whatever had occurred in the kitchen. He had to admit, he _was_ extremely curious as to what the booming crash that had drawn Freddy away had been, but there wasn't anything he could do about it tonight.

Mike peered around the corner of the west hallway, finding it was also devoid of killer robots. Thrilled at his turn of good fortune, Mike walked briskly down the hall and turned into his office. Having been submerged in darkness for the better part of the night, it took him a few moments to realize that, at some point, the power must have gone out. No doubt because he had never gotten a chance to turn the tablet off. The office was pitch dark, and the device in question was powered off.

 _Hopefully management won't notice when they're paying the electric bill..._ Mike thought to himself as he gathered his things. As he reached for his duffel bag, he wondered if maybe bringing it home wasn't the best idea. He enjoyed the slight feeling of security he got from having the objects within nearby. So, instead, he jogged back toward Pirate Cove and lobbed the duffel bag inside. Turning away from the curtains, Mike gasped when he saw all three members of the band had resumed their places on the stage. It was extremely disturbing how quickly and quietly they were capable of moving when they wanted to. Still, it was now 6:01 AM, and they posed no threat to him.

Walking across the main party room, Mike hazarded a glance at the stage. He was surprised to see that each of the three animatronics was a bit...dirty- Chica being the most noticeable as the grime stood out against her yellow feathers. What had they been up to...?

Not wanting to spend another minute longer than he had to in the place, Mike shrugged off his curiosity and walked out the front door, locking it behind him.

Mike walked to his car and opened the back door, grabbing arm-fulls of his miscellaneous belongings and carrying them around to the trunk where he dumped them unceremoniously. Satisfied that he had cleared enough space, Mike climbed into his car and drove around to the back of Freddy Fazbear's.

As it turned out, the restaurant had a service entrance around back used by staff and suppliers bringing goods to stock the kitchen- and Mike had the keys to it. Pirate Cove also had a door leading to the backstage area that was never used anymore, a relic from ages past when Foxy would join Freddy and the others as part of their routine, and the four would perform together on special occasions.

Mike pulled up to the small, weather-worn door. It wasn't surprising that he hadn't noticed it before, it practically blended into the faded brick wall surrounding it. Stepping out of the vehicle, he glanced up into the sky- the sun would be rising in a few minutes. They would be needing the cover of darkness to minimize their chances of being seen. Fortunately, Mike didn't live far from the pizzeria. They would be fine if they moved quickly.

That in mind, and after fumbling with the old and rusted lock for a few moments, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Oh, fuck!" Mike yelped as he collided with something tall and fuzzy immediately after stepping into the hallway.

"Sorry, lad. Didn' mean ta' startle ye," came the gruff apology from the darkness in front of him.

"It's alright," Mike said with a sigh. "Come on."

Mike led Foxy to his small red sedan and opened the door to the backseat.

Foxy simply stared at him in return.

"Well, get in," Mike encouraged, gesturing to the vehicle.

Foxy approached the car cautiously and climbed inside, having to contort and situate himself a bit before he was fully inside the vehicle. Mike wanted to ask that he be careful not to tear the upholstery, but thought better of it. His car was a piece of shit, anyway.

Once Mike was in the front seat he wasted no time putting the car in drive and pulling out of the small parking lot. As tempted as he was to get home as quickly as possible, he figured it was better to not risk drawing any unwanted attention. The seven-foot tall animatronic pirate fox in his backseat would be pretty difficult to explain to a police officer, after all.

Mike glanced into his rear-view mirror to see how Foxy was holding up, and had to chuckle to himself when he saw the animatronic turning to look out each of the windows excitedly, clearly thrilled to be outside the walls of Freddy Fazbear's for once in who knows how long. He had to admit, it was...cute, in a bizarrely endearing way. Mike couldn't help but feel like he had a several hundred pound metal puppy in the backseat. He was certainly glad that his car had tinted windows- he would've hated to have to burst Foxy's bubble by asking him to keep his head down.

Pulling into his dumpy apartment complex Mike felt a sense of relief wash over him, but he knew they weren't out of the woods just yet. He cast a quick glance in every direction to ensure there were no early risers that might take issue with sharing the sidewalk with a large, sentient robot. Satisfied that the coast was clear, Mike hopped out of the car and opened the back door, motioning for Foxy to follow.

Foxy awkwardly clambered out of the vehicle and collected himself, taking stock of their surroundings.

"So this be where ye lower yer sails, eh?" Foxy asked cheerfully.

"Shh! Come on, follow me," Mike whispered urgently, desperate to get Foxy indoors.

Of course, he lived on the fourth floor, and of course there was no elevator- this complex wasn't fancy enough to warrant such luxury. And so they hurried up the several flights of stairs, Mike cringing with each of Foxy's heavy footfalls that sent clamoring reverberations ringing through the otherwise tranquil morning air.

Finally arriving at room 405, Mike took a moment to bend down and scoop up the morning newspaper out of habit. Now that he thought about it, he had completely forgotten about the man who brings the newspapers around this time each morning... Well, it seemed he had made his deliveries early this morning. Thanking whatever powers that be for small miracles, Mike unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"It's not much, but make yourself at home," Mike offered as he clicked on a few lights and dropped the newspaper on the kitchen counter.

Foxy simply stood in the threshold, a strange feeling overtaking him. It was a feeling of distant familiarity that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it caused a dull echo of an ache to blossom right where his heart would've otherwise been.

"Well, are you going to just stand there or are you going to come in...?" Mike asked, wary of Foxy's behavior. It was unusual- even for him.

"Err. Aye." Foxy said simply as he joined Mike in the small living room.

The unlikely pair stared at each other for a minute or so, neither knowing what to do next.

"Well...this would usually be when I hit the hay, but I'm not all that tired this morning," Mike lied. In truth, he was utterly exhausted, thanks in no small part to Foxy making him mop the entire cove. But the thought of going into his room, falling onto his bed and falling asleep with Foxy loose in his house sent a chill up his spine.

"...wanna watch a movie?" Mike suggested, hoping Foxy would agree- he really had no idea what else the two of them could do, especially with him being so dog-tired.

"A movie?" Foxy said as he cocked his head in thought. He vaguely remembered those, but the memory was so faint that he really had no reference point.

"Yeah, I have one I think you'll really like," said Mike, a grin on his face.

"Sure, why no'." Foxy said with a shrug.

Mike couldn't help but feel a little excited as he rooted around in his absolute mess of an 'entertainment center' in search of the movie in question.

"Aha! Here it is," Mike cheered, as he turned around holding _Pirates of the Caribbean_ in his hand.

* * *

 **[A/N] Couldn't resist! Next chapter is going to be fun. Leave a review! I wanna hear from you. Thanks for reading. ~ Cap**


	6. Chapter 6: Headlock

Mike was drifting in and out of sleep even as the movie was just beginning. He'd seen it enough times that he could most likely recite every line before it was said. The movie was an old favorite of his, and one he often returned to when he was having a particularly bad day- it was comforting, like visiting with an old friend.

Foxy had seemed uncertain and only mildly interested during the opening sequence, but was immediately captivated upon the appearance of Captain Jack Sparrow, to no great surprise. From that moment on, the fox sat with rapt attention, ears straining to capture every word and eyes intensely focused on the screen so as not to miss a single detail, only occasionally speaking to ask Mike a question or to cackle and whoop at Sparrow's antics. Mike smiled sleepily but couldn't help think that it might not have been the best idea to introduce Foxy to Captain Sparrow- it certainly wouldn't make Mike's life any easier if the fox decided to start mimicking the wily and unpredictable pirate on screen.

Mike glanced at the old digital clock resting on top of his modestly sized 32-inch television. 7:45...typically, he would've fallen asleep well over an hour ago, and he was fighting a losing battle to stay awake. The only thing keeping him awake at this point were Foxy's occasional outbursts.

"I don' get it. Be they pirates or creatures o' the undead?" Foxy asked as he scratched his chin with his hook.

"Both, Foxy...just watch the movie..." Mike mumbled, sleepily.

"Well, that be a mite unrealistic," Foxy observed.

Mike simply stared at the animatronic with both eyebrows raised in a bemused expression. It took every shred of his willpower not to point out the irony present in the fact that Foxy, a make-believe pirate captain who also happened to be a seven-foot tall robotic fox, was calling into question the authenticity of zombie pirates in a movie. He decided against it, however, knowing that Foxy would probably not have taken kindly to such an observation.

Again, Mike felt the nagging temptation to ask Foxy more about his origins, but he decided he would let the pirate enjoy his movie for the time being. Instead, he figured he would much rather rest his eyes, just for a few minutes...

* * *

As the credits rolled, Foxy finally allowed himself to relax and leaned back against the couch in satisfaction. He had never seen _anything_ like that before, and it got him wondering what else the outside world had to offer that he'd been missing out on.

Foxy turned to ask Mike what they would do next, to find the man sound asleep, splayed out on the couch, mouth hanging open as he snored softly. The poor lad was obviously exhausted, so Foxy decided it was best to let him sleep.

Deciding to sate his curiosity himself, Foxy stood from the couch and began exploring the small apartment. His attention was immediately drawn to the few framed pictures that stood on a bookshelf nearby. Approaching it, Foxy picked up the first picture that caught his eye- it was of a small boy and his family. The boy had short, unruly brown hair and bright blue eyes, his wide smile showing off a few missing teeth. Foxy couldn't help but smile in return at the young boy he knew as the young man currently sleeping on the couch nearby. They all looked so happy together. Again, Foxy felt the dull but familiar ache of unknown origin smoldering weakly in his chest. This time, however, the feeling began to coalesce into one of anger, and bitterness. Feelings far more familiar to him now than that twinge of sadness and longing the boy's smile had brought to him initially. He'd traveled this dark path many times before over the years, and the bitter thoughts that were starting to creep into his mind never led him anywhere pleasant. He turned to look at the slumbering young man on the couch once more- he needed to put some distance between himself and Mike, and quickly. He needed to be alone. He knew he couldn't very well leave the apartment, however. To do so would be to threaten Mike's well being as well as his own existence. After all, Freddy had impressed upon them all long ago the importance of never being seen outside the restaurant.

Placing the portrait down carefully, Foxy moved quietly into Mike's bedroom. Casting a surveying glance around the room, he could see that it housed a modest-sized bed, a dresser, a night-stand and little else. There was also a small closet with a few articles of clothing inside which looked like it went, for the most part, unused. Foxy felt compelled to seek the security of the dark, enclosed space, and before he knew it he was standing inside, peering out a crack in the door. It was there that he decided he would wait for Mike to awaken. It would give him time to think...

* * *

Mike awoke with a start, expecting to see Foxy still staring wide-eyed at the television set. However, the fox was nowhere to be found, and the movie had clearly long-since ended. How long had he been asleep...?

Mike glanced once more at the clock above the television. 12:28 PM. He'd been asleep for nearly five hours...and it was in that moment Mike realized that the fact that Foxy was not in his immediate field of vision was cause for grave concern. Flying up from his resting position on the couch as if electrocuted, Mike stumbled around the couch dazedly and began searching for the pirate. His apartment was only so large, where could the animatronic have gone...?

His sight settled upon the front door, and a horrible sinking feeling that sent a chill down his spine settled in his gut.

 _No no no no..._ he thought to himself as he quickly threw open the door and leaned out onto the fourth floor landing, turning his head every which way to see if he could spot where the fox might have gone. He ran to the end of the landing and peered out into the parking lot. The animatronic was nowhere in sight. Of course, he knew that if Foxy had indeed left the apartment, he was likely long gone by now. Panic overtaking him, he slipped back inside and began pacing furiously.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh _fuck_!" Mike swore, growing increasingly louder and more frustrated with each syllable as he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair.

 _I am so screwed. I knew I shouldn't have shown him that movie!_ Mike thought as he came to an abrupt stop, staring at a point on the wall in an attempt to focus himself.

 _And Foxy...if he's spotted out in broad daylight...what would happen to him...?_

Concern for the fox began overtaking his fears of losing his job as he slipped into morbid daydreams, picturing the events that would most likely unfold if Foxy was discovered wandering around the sleepy suburban neighborhood.

 _Someone would call the cops...if they confronted him, they'd think he was some sort of weapon or escaped experiment...or they wouldn't even bother trying to pinpoint what he was, preferring instead to simply open fire..._

"Somethin' the matter, mate?"

Mike whirled around to face the source of the noise, which was, of course, none other than Foxy the Pirate, standing in the doorway leading to Mike's room, wearing a look of mild concern.

"Wha-" Mike stuttered, clearly in shock. "Where the hell were you!?"

Foxy simply jerked his head back towards Mike's room in response.

 _But I checked in there...how could he possibly...?_

"So you didn't leave? You've been in here the whole time?" Mike breathlessly attempted to confirm.

"Aye." Foxy replied, simply. He really didn't want to have to explain to Mike why he had felt the need to isolate himself.

Relieved, Mike collapsed onto the couch once more and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Good. Well, I'm starving, and I'm sure I smell like death warmed-over. Give me a few minutes, and then we'll take a look at your jaw, okay?" Mike said with a yawn as he shuffled into his kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door.

* * *

"Alright, you ready?" Mike felt like he was asking himself as much as he was asking Foxy.

Foxy simply nodded in response, seeming to tense up as he laid back on the couch, Mike leaning over him with ratchet in hand. It took Mike a few moments to decide upon his angle of approach before clamping the tool onto one of the bolts that joined Foxy's lower jaw to the hinge which allowed it to move when he spoke. However, as soon as he began to apply pressure in an attempt to loosen it, he heard a low growl rumble inside Foxy's throat and saw his good hand grip the couch cushion tightly.

"Shit, am I hurting you?" Mike asked, as shocked as he was concerned. He supposed it made sense, considering Foxy's reaction when Mike had punched him the other night, but he had been too terrified to give it much thought at the time. How could Foxy, an animatronic, possibly feel pain...?

"Jus' get on with it." Foxy instructed as he continued to brace himself. Mike nodded in response before leaning over him once more.

"Man, this is in really bad shape..." Mike mused as he attempted to remove the rusted and broken bolts which had, at one point in time, kept Foxy's lower jaw attached to the rest of his head.

"Tell me somethin' I don' know," Foxy grunted as Mike attempted to prize a particularly stubborn bolt loose.

"Hey, don't be trying to move your mouth while I'm working on it! I'd rather not lose any fingers today," Mike huffed as he reached for a different tool. "Why'd they make your teeth so damn sharp anyway..." he sighed as he returned to his task, injured hand aching as he gripped the tool tightly.

Foxy narrowed his eyes and grumbled an unintelligible response under his breath.

After about an hour, Mike had managed to successfully remove Foxy's lower jaw, which now sat on a dish towel on the coffee table next to him, alongside a cup containing some white vinegar and the salvageable but rusted bolts which would hopefully be rust-free in short-order thanks to the vinegar bath. In the meantime, Mike took to cleaning Foxy's jaws with a vinegar dampened rag, polishing each tooth to its original luster.

 _Is this...chrome steel?!_ Mike pondered, amazed, as the shiny, slightly bluish surface of each tooth was gradually revealed by the cleaning solution. _No wonder these guys have lasted so long..._

Soon, all but a few of Foxy's teeth were sparkling like new- he would need to get his hands on some automotive grade spray-paint if he wanted to touch up the few fading and chipped golden teeth the pirate had.

Mike carefully placed Foxy's lower jaw on a clean rag on the table beside him before noticing its owner was staring at him. Mike had to admit, the fox looked extremely unsettling in his current state- sharp teeth hanging down from his upper jaw and a gaping hole where the rest of his mouth should have been, exposing the endoskeleton within. The hard stare the pirate had directed at him was starting to unnerve him. It was as if Foxy was looking through him, rather than at him...

"Somethin' on yer mind, lad?" Foxy asked, his gruff voice emanating from the void that was once his mouth.

Mike knew he would have to choose his words carefully, but he did have some questions for Foxy that he felt he deserved answers to.

"...this damage to your jaw clearly isn't a result of old age. The metal's dented, a few of the bolts were cracked, and honestly, it's a miracle the hinge wasn't broken clean off... what happened, Foxy?"

Regretting his attempt to start a conversation immediately, Foxy sighed.

"... tha's no' somethin'...It be in the past," Foxy attempted to conclude unconvincingly, unable to hold Mike's gaze.

"I realize that, Captain. I'm asking you what happened," Mike encouraged, hoping to appeal to the fox's pride.

If he was being honest with himself, Foxy knew it would likely do him a great deal of good to talk about it, along with a great deal else, but contrary to popular belief, time does not heal all wounds, and he was all too familiar with the rage that took hold of him whenever he would dwell too long on the past...

...but this _was_ Mike, after all. He could trust Mike, couldn't he? His own crew-member, on the fast track to becoming his new first-mate...maybe it was time to talk about it...in broad strokes, at least.

"Look, Mikey. All ye need ta' know is tha' a long time ago, somethin' real bad 'appened, an' some lily-livered bilge-rats got scared, an' they did this," Foxy said, pointing to the gap in his head where his jaw would have been.

"...the bite of '87," Mike muttered, unthinkingly.

For a moment, Foxy was silent, he simply stared at the young man sitting across from him, eyes wide.

"That's no'- ye speak of things ye know nothin' about!" Foxy snapped, tone irate.

Mike's hands flew up in front of him in a placating gesture. "You're right, I don't! So tell me...what happened? You didn't..." Mike refused to finish his sentence as Foxy glared at him.

"O'course not!" Foxy bellowed in frustration as he surged up off the couch, towering over the night guard. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was being unreasonable. If Mike had heard of the bite, it was only natural that he would be curious. In spite of that, he could feel his mind being lost to that old, deep-seated rage as it attempted to coax him into its embrace as if it were an old friend.

"Okay, okay!" Mike exclaimed, attempting to shrink away from the imposing form of the pirate, "I'm sorry for asking, alright? We don't have to talk about it. Look, these bolts should be good to go by now," he added, turning to the fluid-filled container beside him, eager to change the subject as quickly as possible.

Foxy simply stared at him for a few moments before plopping back down on the couch with a sigh. He knew he was going to have to tell Mike the truth one day...just not today.

Mike was silent as he rubbed away what little rust remained on the bolts with a square of folded-over aluminum foil. It was a trick his dad, who restored old-fashioned cars as a hobby, had shown him years ago.

"Alright," Mike said, clearing his throat awkwardly as he reached for Foxy's detached jaw, "let's get this thing back on."

* * *

The ride back to the pizzeria was eerily quiet. Neither Mike nor Foxy knew what to say to the other as each was consumed by his own thoughts and perturbations.

Mike's red sedan pulled into the parking lot of Freddy Fazbear's at 11:45 PM. Pulling around to the back of the restaurant, Mike parked the car, approached the door to the rear entrance and began struggling with the lock once more.

"You go on ahead. I'll go in through the main entrance so we don't arouse any suspicion," Mike instructed, signaling Foxy through the door once he had gotten it opened.

Foxy simply nodded and entered the restaurant without a word. Mike couldn't help but think it a bit odd that they'd gone through all that trouble to repair the pirate's jaw, only for him to refuse to say a word beyond conveying his gratitude. He had expected the fox to be talking up a storm in celebration, but instead Foxy had become reticent and distant. Mike couldn't help but worry that he'd pissed Foxy off with his questioning earlier.

With a heavy sigh, Mike shut and locked the door behind Foxy, walking around to the front of the restaurant and entering the forsaken place himself.

Walking down the east hallway, Mike turned into the office and dropped himself into the swivel chair, causing it to creak in protest. He was exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a full night's rest- it was certainly well before he'd starting working here.

Just as Mike reached forward to pick up the tablet, he heard heavy footsteps behind him.

"That was quick. I figured you'd want some time alo-" Mike's sentence was cut short as something large and fuzzy was clasped over his mouth, his eyes widened in a silent scream as he heard the maddeningly calm and authoritative voice coming from directly behind him...

"Hello, Michael."

* * *

 **[A/N] Oops, I cliff-hanger'd. As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading. ~Cap**


	7. Chapter 7: Breathe In

Mike's eyes frantically bounced around in his skull, shifting from left to right in a futile attempt to get a glimpse of his assailant. Not that it was necessary, Mike knew who it was that was practically suffocating him with his large, brown, faux-fur covered paw which smelled of musty old pizza. Mike also knew that he was dead, or soon to be, anyway. Any plans of escape that his feverish brain was attempting desperately to concoct were shattered as Freddy effortlessly reached over and tapped the 'door' switch on each side of the office without budging from his spot behind Mike, bringing both doors crashing down. All sense of reason leaving him, Mike began to scream, rewarded only with a muffled moan and a lack of oxygen for his efforts.

"Now, now, Michael, we can't be having that. Screaming is against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's- rule number three, to be specific."

Something about the way Freddy spoke chilled Mike to his very core. His disturbingly calm tone was incredibly cold and uncaring, even for a hulking metallic monstrosity. Mike felt compelled by his sense of self-preservation to obey the bear for the time being, however, and gradually forced himself to silence.

"There, that's better. Now, I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth, and you aren't going to scream, or make any sound whatsoever, for that matter. Understood?"

Mike nodded weakly in response.

Freddy nodded, satisfied, in return, even though Mike could not see it, and removed his hand from the guard's face, taking a step backwards.

Mike twisted himself around, unprepared for just how imposing the figure before him would turn out to be up close. Freddy was absolutely massive- much broader than Foxy, even if not much taller. His height and mass combined made for a very intimidating figure, the effect was further enhanced by the fact that from Mike's seated position, he could clearly see the shining metal teeth of the endoskeleton within.

"I know what you're up to, Mr. Schmidt. Don't think for a second that I do not."

Mike barely paid attention to whatever it was Freddy had just said. He was too consumed by fear to focus, but it sounded like Freddy had accused him of something.

"You've really put me in a difficult position, you know." Freddy continued as he paced -as much as one possibly could in such a small space- back and forth within the office.

"Believe me when I say that your still being alive is no accident. By all rights I should have killed you myself well before now. I suppose, in that regard, it would seem that your gambit has paid off," Freddy observed as he glanced at the clearly shaken night guard.

Beginning to overcome the initial waves of shock that had come crashing against him with Freddy's sudden appearance, Mike was starting to pick up more of what the bear was actually saying.

 _My 'gambit'? What the hell is he talking about...?_

It was then that Mike realized that keeping Freddy talking might be his only chance of surviving this encounter... or at least of prolonging the inevitable.

"...I don't know what you're talking about," Mike finally replied, unconvincingly.

"Don't play stupid with me, Mr. Schmidt. I don't play games unless they are by my rules," Freddy said as he gave Mike an appraising look that reeked of skepticism. "We both know that you and Foxy have been conspiring with each other these past few nights- I don't know what you did to achieve this, but that much is clear."

Mike said nothing, attempting to keep his face as neutral as possible to avoid unintentionally confirming anything the bear was saying.

"More to the point, we both know that you weren't alone when you departed from here last night."

Mike swallowed hard at that. Well, he had never been very good at hiding his emotions under pressure- which would explain why his friends always wanted him to play poker with them, the bastards.

Mike's reaction was all the confirmation Freddy needed as he nodded his head before continuing.

"As I said before, you've put me in quite a difficult position. Whatever you did, it's clear you've established a rapport with our resident pirate... to the degree that he would knowingly shelter you from my pursuit..."

 _Shit..._

The dreaded realization that Freddy had known he was hiding out in the cove the other night settled over Mike's stomach like an ice-cold shroud.

"Given that," Freddy continued,"if I were to kill you right now- and believe me when I say that it would be all too easy- one could reasonably assume that Foxy would not be particularly...receptive...to such a turn of events."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Mike asked, strength returning to his voice. Scared as he was, the bear's facade of politeness was grating on his nerves something fierce.

"Why indeed... Have you ever stopped to consider the consequences of your actions here, Mr. Schmidt?" Freddy asked pointedly as he rounded on the guard seated before him. "You may be willing to take advantage of and manipulate him to serve as your little bodyguard..." Freddy muttered threateningly, eyes narrowing in the first hint of emotion Mike had seen from him yet.

"'Manipulate'?" Mike interrupted, "the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh please, Mr. Schmidt, don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you. We both know you're just stringing Foxy along, playing pirate so long as he places himself between me and you when the time comes. Isn't that right?" Freddy accused, condescendingly, as he took a step closer to the man.

"Bullshit! What the fuck do you know, anyway? You don't know me." Mike exclaimed, suddenly finding himself on his feet in clear defiance of the fear threatening to turn his legs to jelly beneath him.

"Oh... it would seem that I've struck a nerve," Freddy observed, a smug grin spreading across his face as he cocked his head to the side ever so slightly.

"Since you asked," Freddy continued, unfazed, "allow me to tell you what I think I know. I know that you are putting a member of our family in unnecessarily grave danger by convincing him to leave this place during the day. I know that you are either very stupid or very sure of yourself to keep coming back here night after night. And I know that while you play at being friends with Foxy, you couldn't care less if he gets scrapped as a result of your selfish actions."

"'Scrapped'?" Mike asked, confused, unfamiliar with the term.

"What do you think would happen if Foxy were to be spotted outside the walls of this establishment, walking and talking as we are now?" Freddy asked the night guard, "he would be deemed a threat, and the authorities would track him down and destroy him as they would a bloodthirsty beast before coming and destroying the rest of us for good measure- as history does have a tendency to repeat itself. But that would please you, wouldn't it, Mr. Schmidt? In fact, I'd go so far as to say it's been part of your plan all along."

Mike was silent as he thought back to earlier in the day when he had believed Foxy had left his apartment and wandered off on his own. As much as he wanted to deny Freddy's accusations, a question pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

"Wait, what did you mean by 'history has a tendency to repeat itself'...?"

"Oh, I see... So, he's not told you, then..." Freddy said knowingly, a hint of smugness evident in his voice.

"Told me what?" Mike asked, a little too quickly.

Freddy simply smiled a wide smile that Mike supposed the children found charming, but Mike found it deeply disturbing.

"Told me what!?" he repeated.

"Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Schmidt," Freddy said, inclining his head in the slightest bow he could manage, as he tapped the 'door' switch before stepping out into the east hallway and disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

Mike wasn't sure how long he'd sat there staring straight ahead at the wall after Freddy had gone. There were so many questions buzzing around in his head, it was impossible to identify a signal in all the noise. He hadn't even bothered monitoring the animatronics...something told him that Freddy wouldn't be making a repeat appearance tonight. He clearly wanted Mike to think about what he'd said, otherwise Freddy would have just killed him right then and there.

It frustrated Mike to no end that Freddy had so easily honed in on his insecurities, and it made him question himself.

 _What the hell have I gotten myself into..._ Mike pondered, worriedly. If it wasn't painfully obvious before, it was crystal clear now- there was way more to this wretched place beyond a few rogue animatronics with faulty A.I. and homicidal tendencies. If Mike had had any doubts to the contrary before, they were all but dispelled now.

 _I'll have to ask Foxy when-_ Mike paused mid-thought. Everything the bear had said about the pirate came rushing back. He felt certain enough that he could get some answers from the fox if he was persistent, but memories of the day before came flooding back, namely the look of unbridled fury on Foxy's face when he had attempted to ask about 'the bite'...

And what was it that Foxy hadn't told him? The bear's final words had settled in Mike's gut, festering and making him feel queasy. It had been exceedingly obvious that Foxy was hiding something from him, but now, for the first time, Mike truly started to fear that it was something much more sinister than he had dared guess. Suddenly, he didn't feel quite as comfortable with the prospect of being in the same room as Foxy as before, and he hated Freddy for it.

Could he even afford to pull another stunt like he had the night before? As much as he loathed to admit it to himself, Freddy had been right. Mike had put Foxy at great risk by taking him back to his apartment. If any sign of Foxy's sentience had been witnessed by a hapless bystander, events could have spiraled out of Mike's control within minutes- seconds, even- and it would have been entirely his fault.

Mike was torn. Of course he felt obligated to Foxy for protecting him thus far, plus he was now more curious than ever about the secrets this place so obviously held, and, if he was being honest, he had (for the most part) genuinely enjoyed Foxy's company these past few days. On the other hand, however, Mike had to ask himself why he continually refused to get up from his chair, sprint down the hallway and out the front door, putting as much distance between himself and Freddy Fazbear's as possible- and never look back. Sure, he would be surrendering the entirety of the paycheck he had risked his life for up to this point, but what good was it if he was dead? Was his obligation to Foxy really the only thing keeping him here?

Mike was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed someone was standing beside him, looking down at him as he sat in a silent stupor.

"Ye alrigh', lad?"

Mike simply turned his head to look up at the fox dazedly, face bereft of expression, before turning back to glance at the tablet before him. It was already 5:50 AM.

"Mikey, I said are ye alri-"

"I heard you," Mike interrupted with a sigh.

"Well, are ye ready ta' sail outta' this dingy ol' port?" Foxy asked enthusiastically, motioning towards the hallway with his hook.

"...I think you should stay here tonight." Mike said, still staring straight ahead, not looking at Foxy.

"Ye wha'?" Foxy asked, perplexed.

"I said," Mike began to repeat, a bit more forcefully, "I'm not bringing you back with me tonight."

"Wha' be this mutinous nonsense ye speak, o'course ye are! Ye said-"

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Mike felt his face flush with heat as he spun in his chair, rounding on the fox in frustration.

"Stop. Please, for the sake of my sanity, cut the pirate crap for five seconds. I'm fucking exhausted, and I can't deal with this right now," said Mike as he gestured vaguely at Foxy with a wave of his hands.

...

Mike knew he was making a mistake even as the words left his mouth, but he'd let his exhaustion and his frustrations get the better of him. He also knew it was too late to take the words back, as he saw Foxy's brow furrow and eyes narrow as he raised his hook and opened his newly functioning jaw to speak.

However, Foxy said nothing. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut and leveled an icy glare at Mike before turning on his heel and stomping out of the office and down the hallway, leaving Mike alone, accompanied only by the sound of metal footfalls fading into the distance.

Mike groaned and dragged his hand down his face. He was simply too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to deal with this place a minute longer. Gathering his things, he exited the office and walked for the exit, pausing for a moment to glance at the darkened and unmoving curtains of Pirate Cove, half expecting to see a pair of glowing golden orbs watching him spitefully. Seeing nothing but inky darkness, he sighed and pushed open the door before stepping outside into the brisk morning air.

On the main show stage, Freddy Fazbear wore the slightest suggestion of a smile.

* * *

Mike lazily forced his eyelids open to the sight of dark orange sunlight spilling across his field of vision. Had he really slept through the entire day? He barely remembered arriving home, much less getting himself ready for and into bed. It was then that he became very aware of the night guard outfit still clinging uncomfortably to his body. Well, that explained that.

Stumbling out of bed with a groan he stretched exaggeratedly, wincing a few times as joints popped into place. Glancing outside he could see the sky was ablaze with the final minutes of daylight. Figuring that it must have been close to 8 PM, Mike was immediately reminded of the fact that he was expected to report to Freddy Fazbear's in less than four short hours.

Freddy's warnings and blunt accusations from the night before floated back into his mind. What would be in store for him if he returned there tonight? Had Freddy merely been attempting to deter him from coming back, or was his agenda as sinister and foreboding as the bear himself?

And what of Foxy? Mike felt the predictable feelings of guilt begin to settle in as he remembered what he had said to the fox before leaving him behind. As much as he hated himself for it, he acknowledged the fact that he needed to firmly plant himself on Foxy's good side once more to ensure his protection, but seeing as he also felt legitimately awful for the things that he had said to the fox, he very much wanted to make amends. The fact that his motivations extended beyond mere self-preservation felt like a testament not only to his amicable relationship with Foxy, but also to his denial of Freddy's accusations to the contrary the night before, and served to bolster his resolve as he began preparing for his shift.

* * *

Mike decided to arrive to work a bit early this particular night, owing to a need to make a pit stop in Pirate Cove before reporting to his post. Mike chuckled darkly to himself at his flippant reference to the mundane work he had initially expected to be doing at Freddy's...oh how wrong he had been.

Heading straight for Pirate Cove upon entering the restaurant, casting a brief glance at the show stage to ensure that Freddy wasn't watching him, he pulled the violet curtains aside and stepped into the darkness within.

Instinctively bracing himself, Mike was not surprised, yet nonetheless relieved, when nothing happened, and he was met only with silence. Not wanting to allow his eyes the time they needed to adjust to the inky blackness of the cove, Mike flicked on his flashlight and pointed it at Foxy.

...or rather, he would have been pointing it at Foxy, if the animatronic had been standing where he usually did. The fox was nowhere to be found. A slight sense of panic sent the hairs on Mike's arms standing straight up at attention as he cautiously crept around the dusty old props littering the cove, scanning in search of its only resident.

After a brief minute of increasingly frantic searching, Mike breathed a sigh of relief as the pillar of light emanating from his flashlight fell over the sullen form of Foxy the Pirate, seated behind the large pirate ship prop, looking for all intents and purposes to be inactive as he was slouched forward, darkened eyes facing downward at the floor between the metal of his exposed limbs.

Mike knew better, of course, and approached slowly before crouching down to be level with the pirate's slumped form.

"I know you're in there, Foxy," Mike asserted quietly.

No response.

"Please, don't do this," Mike sighed, feeling like he was preparing to talk to a sulking child. "I'm sorry, alright? What I said...you _know_ I didn't mean it. Surely you could tell I was practically dead on my feet coming into work last night... I just..." Mike's voice trailed off, unsure of what to say, considering the fact that everything out of his mouth thus far had carried about as much weight as a feather pillow. On some level, he wanted nothing more than to tell Foxy about what had happened with Freddy the night before, but he felt like it would have only been proving the bear right if the first thing he did was run to Foxy for protection. He needed to prove to Freddy, and himself, that he wasn't just using the animatronic as a shield.

"I know you can hear me. It's fine if you're still mad at me, but just say something, anything, please?" Mike pleaded.

Still he received no response.

Mike felt his face heat up as he started to grow agitated.

"You're really just going to ignore me?" he huffed indignantly.

Receiving no acknowledgment whatsoever from the animatronic, who had not budged an inch since Mike had found him, Mike stood and glared down at Foxy with a sour look on his face.

"Fine. When you decide to stop acting like a child, you know where to find me," Mike breathed out, curtly, before heading for the curtains and pulling them open, not even bothering to check if the coast was clear before storming out of the cove and towards the office.

On the main show stage, Freddy Fazbear watched Mike's retreating form with intense interest and a broad smile plastered on his face, unable to suppress a chuckle as he turned to nod at each of his band-mates in turn. It was time.

* * *

Mike wasn't surprised in the slightest when he found the main stage to be completely vacant shortly after arriving in the office and settling down. He had expected it. What he hadn't expected, nor prepared himself for, was the relentless assault now being waged upon him. The oddly reassuring sounds of metal on metal that would emanate from the kitchen on other nights, signaling Chica's preoccupation elsewhere, were all but nonexistent this night, as it seemed the hulking yellow chicken preferred to spend all her time staring ominously at Mike through the office window instead.

Similarly, Bonnie had hardly left Mike's side, literally speaking, as the rock-n-roll rabbit was to be found skulking right outside the door nearly every time Mike turned on the hallway light, his hand flying for the 'door' switch reflexively before his brain really even had a chance to process the fact that Bonnie was _still_ there.

Freddy, on the other hand...Freddy was different. He was nowhere to be found. While staving off the advances of the bear's cohorts, Mike frantically searched the restaurant's cameras for any sign of him, each time thinking for a moment that he had spotted the elusive animatronic, only to realize that it had been a trick of the light.

Mike was truly beginning to lose his composure. His only saving grace being the fact that, the few times he had spared a glance at Pirate Cove, the curtains remained closed and undisturbed. Mike could barely spare a moment to dwell on what that meant, and yet he couldn't help but worry that Freddy had had something to do with it. Had he done something to Foxy? What if Foxy hadn't been able to hear Mike, after all?

Checking the tablet once more, Mike noticed that it was only 2:45 AM...each minute passing as excruciatingly slow as they had that very first night he had discovered the true nature of this place. Surprisingly, he was still doing very well on power, and had roughly 68% remaining. He knew that if he remained diligent, and if Freddy stayed wherever the hell it was that he was currently lurking, he could do this. He could survive his fifth night at Freddy's.

Of course, overconfidence is a poison that kills in even the smallest doses.

Just as Mike had finished his self-congratulatory pep-talk, he heard the lumbering footsteps of Bonnie approaching from his left once again. With swiftness and certainty, he swatted at the 'door' switch without even bothering to check the hallway light.

Any feelings of certainty crumbled when the door refused to close. Mike's breath hitched in his chest as he smacked the switch repeatedly, to no avail. How was this possible, there was plenty of power remaining! Dread filling him up from the very tips of his toes and up through the tallest hair on his head, Mike glanced around, frantically, searching for a hiding place.

It was then that he saw him. Crouched down beside Mike, staring straight up at him, wearing that sickeningly sweet and simultaneously unsettling grin Mike had come to know, and loathe, was Freddy. It was easily the most horrifying sight Mike had ever beheld in his entire life. Mike's skin crawled and every synapse in his body fired at once as he surged up off of his seat, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the bear as possible, only to back himself, unwittingly, into a pair of large, purple arms spread open wide to receive him.

Mike felt any oxygen he had managed to hold onto forcibly removed from his lungs as the powerful arms clamped down around his torso. His head was spinning and he was starting to see stars swimming in his vision as Freddy stood to his full height before him, nodding slowly before turning and lumbering out of the office and down the hallway with Chica in tow. Bonnie followed along behind them, carrying Mike in front of him with the ease of a small child carrying a beloved toy- and squeezing just as hard. Mike's eyes frantically scanned the scenery as they passed before settling upon Freddy once more. The sluggishness with which Freddy trudged along was in harsh contrast to the demonic speed with which he must have moved to have ambushed Mike the way he did...a grim realization that only fueled Mike's terror as his heart pounded within his chest.

Seeing Pirate Cove come into view, Mike wanted nothing more than to scream for help at the top of his lungs, but each time he tried to make a sound his throat burned and his eyes watered from the lack of oxygen. Was this really how the other guards had died? Had they, in actuality, already been dead long before they were crammed inside a costume filled with a twisted web of machinery? He knew that if he kept going the way he was, he would lose consciousness within minutes, and then it wouldn't really matter what happened after that. In a way, the thought was comforting- being spared the pain of a grisly death by succumbing to the darkness encroaching on his brain as blood cells withered and died from lack of oxygen...

But he wouldn't accept that fate. He couldn't accept it, and he couldn't rely on Foxy to save him this time, either. Instead, Mike forced himself to focus on the singular task of breathing, and pushed all other thoughts from his mind. Taking slow, measured breaths, Mike was able to regain a glimmer of clarity through the fog that had begun to settle in over his brain...just long enough to realize where they were. They were in the hallway leading to the backstage. Mike saw Freddy and Chica turn into the room from the hallway, leaving his field of vision but clearing the way for Mike to see something else...the door to the restaurant's service entrance.

This was his only chance.

Gathering all the strength he could muster, Mike pulled his legs up as close to his chest as he could manage with Bonnie's arms in the way and placed his feet flat against the rabbit's belly. He was only going to get one shot at this. With one final gulp of air, Mike leaned forward and kicked off of the rabbit's body as hard as he could, a thrill overtaking him as he felt Bonnie's grip loosen and gravity take over as he began to fall towards the floor.

Not missing a beat, Mike braced himself for impact, splaying his hands out in front of him to break his fall. Springing up into a sprinter's crouch, Mike evaded Bonnie's clumsy attempt to recapture him and sprinted forward. His goal rapidly approaching, Mike threw himself at the object of his salvation and began fumbling with the handle.

It didn't budge.

Time seemed to stop as Mike glanced down in horror at the doorknob his hand was clasped around.

It was a double-sided bolt.

It required a key to be opened _from both sides._

His keys were in the office.

Mike's heart seized in his chest as he felt a presence closing in directly behind him. Whirling around, Mike finally managed to unleash an unearthly scream which he would have been shocked to hear himself produce in any other situation, but at the time seemed entirely appropriate. He was cornered. There was nowhere else to run.

Continuing to scream and thrash wildly as Freddy dragged him by his legs into the backstage area, Mike saw Bonnie and Chica standing placidly on either side of a small wooden table that looked ready to collapse under the weight of the equipment resting upon it. It was then that he noticed it. Of the items resting upon the overcrowded table was an 'unoccupied' Freddy Fazbear suit- _his_ Freddy Fazbear suit. The sight filled the young night guard with a swell of adrenaline fueled hysteria as he thrashed harder in Freddy's vice-like grip, which only tightened in response to his outburst.

As fate would have it, Freddy's ever-tightening grip slipped on Mike's pant-leg, freeing the previously trapped limb and allowing Mike to rear it back before kicking out as hard as he could, coming into direct contact with Freddy's face. Mike's foot was met with a satisfying crunch as Freddy roared and staggered backwards slightly, just enough for Mike to wiggle free of his grip entirely. Mike's attack had not come without cost, however, as he felt a shooting pain lance up his leg as he struggled to get to his feet.

Moving to duck under the table in a desperate bid to bolt for the door, Mike was stopped in his tracks as Chica swooped down on the other side of the table with an ear-piercing screech, thrusting a metal wing forward and clipping his arm, causing a sensation of warmth to grow where the wing had clipped him as blood seeped from the wound. Unflinching, Mike flung himself to the side and attempted to maneuver himself around behind her, only to be grabbed, once again, by a now enraged Freddy Fazbear, his eyes reduced to mere pinpricks of light swallowed by darkness. Clearly finished playing games, Freddy wasted no time in bringing a heavy, furred hand crashing against the side of Mike's skull, dazing him, and effectively putting an abrupt halt to his valiant escape attempt.

Well, at least he had put up a good fight, Mike thought darkly as consciousness fled from him.

 _I'm sorry, Mom, Dad..._

 _Foxy..._

Mike's thoughts were slowly extinguished as his vision faded... the harbingers of his doom morphing into blobs of yellow, purple and brown that flowed together as clarity waned. His hearing was the very last of his senses to leave him as he heard a thundering crash, and one final, unholy shriek that drowned out the remainder of his consciousness, sending him plunging into a dark, silent abyss.

* * *

 **[A/N] ...**


	8. Chapter 8: A Flash of Red

_Freddy Fazbear's Pizza – November XX, 1987_

Withdrawn deep into the recesses of his own mind, seeking shelter from the doldrums of his otherwise mundane and essentially meaningless existence, Foxy the Pirate sat slumped in the corner of the Parts and Service room, eyes darkened and seemingly devoid of life.

His rust-red fur was tattered and torn in several places, such as on his left ear, the metal endoskeleton beneath completely exposed. It didn't matter much, he supposed. After all, he spent the majority of his time sitting here, in this unlit room, just as he was now. He had learned to cope with the vast stretches of boredom punctuated by brief moments of activity that had become his life as the days and weeks and months melded together. In particular, he enjoyed his time spent plumbing the depths of his mind in search of the "other."

This "other" was a consciousness separate from his own...he was only vaguely aware of it, and could only locate it after a fair bit of time spent searching, but he was getting better at finding it each and every day. Locating it floating within the vast nothingness of his subconscious mind had almost become a game of sorts.

The "other" had a unique and almost alien manner of thinking and interacting, yet was comforting and familiar in a way Foxy couldn't put into words. Beyond the basic everyday knowledge it imparted to him, it told him stories of pirates and grand adventures on the high seas...stories which he soon became intimately familiar with. Eventually, Foxy began dreaming up his own stories and shared them with the "other", which would always listen with rapt attention, as if absorbing the fruits of Foxy's creative pursuits itself. Simply spending time with this "other" filled Foxy with a purposefulness that he was otherwise lacking in his life.

However, Foxy sometimes preferred to be alone with his thoughts. Sometimes, if it was quiet enough, he could see and feel memories flicker dimly within his mind, always just barely out of reach. His futile attempts to seize hold of them were often fruitless, the memories slipping through his fingers as if he had tried to grab smoke with his bare hands. It was like trying to listen to music on a weak radio signal, and he would only catch bits and pieces of each memory before they faded away.

And yet, for those brief, shining moments spent with the elusive recollections, he could feel an indescribable warmth spread throughout his body and concentrate in his chest, swelling and filling him up before rushing away as quickly as they came, leaving him feeling cold and alone. As awful as he would feel when he inevitably failed to pin down a particularly enjoyable memory and explore it fully, the brief contact high he received from even the most fleeting interaction with them had become somewhat of an addiction for him. Somehow, he knew these ethereal memories signified something extremely important, but he had no idea what or why. In the end, it was a fairly pleasant way to pass the time, provided that he avoid the memories that burned brightest, for they held nothing but echoes of intense, searing pain which filled him with an overwhelming anger...

Occasionally, even in this meditative state, Foxy would pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on around him as well. On this particular day, it was the sound of the Parts and Services door slamming shut followed by urgent whispering that caught his attention...

 _..what!?_

 _...yeah, yeah! It's so messed up...place is crawling with police officers..._

… _.five kids!? How long...missing...?_

 _...don't know...they're saying...someone who works here..._

 _...no way! …..do something like that!?_

 _...dunno...messed up..._

Foxy then heard the door being pulled open and slammed shut as the Parts and Service room was plunged into silence once more...

* * *

 _Freddy Fazbear's Pizza – Present Day_

Foxy often returned to the memory of that particular day, not only because of the unsettling conversation he had overheard, most likely between two Freddy Fazbear's employees, but because later that day he had witnessed a rather peculiar sight...he had spotted the golden Freddy Fazbear suit leaving the Parts and Service room. This was a considerably odd occurrence since it had always been assumed that that particular suit no longer had its endoskeleton, and was incapable of moving on its own. He vaguely remembered asking Freddy about what he had seen later that day, but received no response from the bear...

He often returned to this memory when he needed something to preoccupy his mind, as he did on this particular night. Dwelling on the mysteries of his clouded past was one of the only ways available to him to pass the time, especially since he was no longer able to commune with the entity he once knew as the "other." In the past few years he had come to the realization that the entity he once knew as the "other" was actually the programming that was at one time inherent to his robotic body, much of which had been destroyed by the staff when he was 'retired.' At least he had retained much of the knowledge the "other" had shared with him, including all of his favorite stories...in a way, even though he had lost what had come to feel like a piece of himself, the "other" had had such an enormous impact on shaping his sense of self, that he felt like he had become one with the entity long ago.

 _...in there, Foxy..._

Foxy's wandering mind ground to a halt as he focused on the barely audible sound his ears were detecting. The voice sounded extremely familiar...and very close. It sounded like... Mike?

.. _.don't do this..._

It was definitely Mike, no doubt having come to apologize once again.

 _...sorry, alright?...didn't mean it..._

Yes, there it was. This sounded familiar. Foxy would have rolled his eyes if he were in control of them at that very moment. Instead, they remained unresponsive.

 _...know you can hear me..._

Foxy figured there wasn't much point in coming out of his meditative state if Mike knew he could hear him, anyway. Besides, he didn't want to give the night guard the satisfaction of being right...not right now, at least.

Foxy couldn't help but wonder whether or not Mike, who was no doubt crouched beside him begging his forgiveness at this very moment, was someone he could truly consider a friend. Not that Foxy was an expert on the subject of friendship, far from it, in fact. However, the young man seemed perpetually frustrated with him, and didn't seem all that interested in even being in the same room as him...he'd implied as much the night before when he told Foxy that he didn't want him coming home with him. Old but familiar feelings of abandonment oozed forth, like blood from a freshly picked scab, as Foxy's perception of Mike Schmidt twisted and morphed in his mind's eye. The feeling was punctuated when he felt Mike move from his side and head for the cove's entrance, leaving him alone once more.

Despite Foxy's efforts to withdraw back into the depths of his subconsciousness once more, memories of the young man he now knew as Mike, his most valued (and only) crew member, surged through his mind. Even though he had only known him for a few days, Mike had shown him an inordinate amount of kindness. Foxy wished he could have truly expressed the gratitude he felt towards Mike for repairing his jaw, and for giving him a chance to escape the crushing loneliness of this dismal place, even if only for a few hours...but putting it into words had been...difficult.

He knew he needed to talk to Mike, but wanted to be certain of what he would say to the young night guard before paying him a visit.

* * *

Foxy was uncertain how much time had passed since Mike had left the cove, but he figured it could only have been a few minutes. After all, Foxy had only barely had time to come up with what he wanted to say to the young man. Rousing himself from his vegetative state, he stood up from his position on the floor, his poorly maintained joints creaking in protest as he collected himself.

Poking his head out from behind the curtains of Pirate Cove, Foxy scanned the main party hall for signs of movement. Oddly enough, the main show stage stood empty, but a glance down the hallway to his right showed light spilling out from the office where Mike surely was.

 _The lad seems to be holding 'is own well enough_ , the pirate thought to himself as he stepped out into the restaurant proper. Strolling down the west hallway before finally arriving at the office...

...but Mike was nowhere to be found.

Confused, Foxy wondered just how long his wandering mind had kept him preoccupied in the cove...had Mike already completed his shift and gone home for the day? A quick glance at the tablet resting on the desk showed that it was currently 3:15 AM...which meant Mike should be sitting in the very chair that currently sat beside Foxy, notably unoccupied.

Foxy's attention was drawn to the key-ring which sat on the desk next to the tablet...if anything, that confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mike was still in the building, as he certainly wouldn't have left without them. Or at least, left willingly...

It was then that, as if on cue, Foxy heard it.

A loud, piercing scream, coming from the back of the restaurant.

They had him.

Lunging forward, Foxy made a grab for the key-ring resting on the desk before bolting out of the office and down the west hallway, headed straight for the one place he knew he would find Mike: the backstage. As Foxy ran he could hear Mike's screams growing louder and louder the closer he came to his destination.

Foxy skidded to a halt in front of the now-closed door to the backstage, behind which he could hear the sounds of a struggle dying down, as he reared back and slammed into the door with his shoulder, sending it flying open.

There was a moment of complete silence as the three animatronics inside the room turned to face the new arrival. Bonnie stood to one side of the table that was in the middle of the room, wearing a look of uncertainty and seemingly unsure of what to do with himself as he shifted restlessly. On the other side of the table stood Chica, who gave Foxy a look of cold determination, one of her wings dripping with a dark, red substance which Foxy recognized immediately as blood. His gaze then settled upon Freddy, who held a limp and unmoving Mike Schmidt by the throat, pinning him against the wall.

Was he too late? Was Mike already...?

With a furious shriek, Foxy surged forward, clearing the space between himself and Freddy within seconds, lashing out wildly and sinking his hook into the bear's shoulder before yanking it back as hard as he could. Freddy roared in pain as he lost his grip on Mike, sending the man tumbling to the ground in a heap.

Foxy ripped his hook from Freddy's shoulder, spinning the bear around, before shoving him at Chica with full force, who looked like she was about to make a move for Mike's legs.

In a flash, Foxy knelt down and scooped up Mike in his arms before twisting himself around, only to be met with the sight of Bonnie barreling towards him. Thinking quickly, Foxy held his ground until the very last moment before dodging to the left with as much agility as he could manage while holding Mike, narrowly evading Bonnie's grasp and sending the rabbit crashing into the wall.

With a pang of guilt, Foxy kicked Bonnie as hard as he could square in the chest, sending him careening backwards into Freddy and Chica, who had only just managed to untangle themselves. The three animatronics were sent crashing to the floor as Foxy sprinted from the room, wasting no time in heading for the exit. Only one thing was clear to him in this moment: he had to get Mike out of there.

Throwing himself through the double doors, Foxy didn't break his stride as he ran towards Mike's car. Thankfully it hadn't been all that difficult to locate, seeing as it was the only car in the lot this early in the morning.

Foxy slung Mike over his shoulder as he yanked open the rear passenger door- fortunately Mike wasn't one to bother with locking his car when he reported for work in the dead of night- and placed Mike inside as carefully as he could manage. It was there, under the faint glow of a nearby streetlight that Foxy's attention was drawn to Mike's condition. Among several superficial cuts was one large gash on his right arm which was still bleeding profusely, staining the tan interiors of Mike's sedan a deep crimson.

Slamming the rear door shut, Foxy pulled open the driver's side door and, with some difficulty, flung himself inside.

 _I remember th' lad usin' one o' these..._ Foxy thought as he pulled out the key-ring and began sorting through it, hastily, trying each one of the keys in the ignition until he found the one that fit.

The sense of relief Foxy felt upon finding the right key vanished immediately when nothing happened. Why was nothing happening? What else had Mike done to get this thing to move...?! Desperate, Foxy started pressing every button and switch within reach, none producing any results.

Foxy focused as hard as he could to recall the events of two nights prior...he had seen Mike put the key in the slot...and turn it. Mimicking the motion he had seen Mike make, he turned the key in the ignition and was shocked when the engine sputtered to life.

...but still the car wouldn't move.

Suddenly, the car jolted to the right as something heavy slammed into it with gut-wrenching force. Foxy reflexively slammed on the gas pedal, going nowhere but causing the car to shake violently and the tires to screech in protest as he saw a furious Freddy Fazbear slamming his fists against the backseat window in an attempt to shatter the glass.

Head whipping around in a panic, Foxy tried desperately to locate the missing piece of the puzzle. After Mike had gotten him into the car...and after Mike had put in the key and turned it...he'd put his hand down here between the seats...

Once again, mimicking Mike's actions, Foxy placed his hooked hand on the drive shift and pulled it backwards as hard as he could.

Suddenly, the car was sent lurching forwards, now-smoking tires granted their relief as the car careened around the parking lot, splintering two small trees and vaulting over the curb multiple times before, miraculously, navigating towards the parking lot's exit and flying out onto the highway and speeding off into the distance.

Standing in the parking lot, Freddy Fazbear watched in absolute shock, his mouth agape in abject horror, as the little red car raced off into the night...

* * *

Foxy couldn't help but cackle and hoot loudly as he watched Freddy Fazbear's shrink into the distance. This was far and away the most thrilling thing the pirate had ever experienced! The '98 sedan was absolutely screaming down the road, and Foxy was feeling like he had a pretty good handle on this 'driving' thing. It seemed simple enough, anyway. Turning the wheel left or right made the car turn, respectively, and the thing he was pressing with his foot made it sail- er, go. He thought he was doing pretty well, for his first time, completely oblivious to the fact that he had crossed over the median strip twice, and had already run three- now four- red lights.

The immediate thrill wearing off, Foxy suddenly remembered the gravity of the situation as he turned to look at the still unconscious man in the back seat.

"Mike!" Foxy yelled while trying his best to navigate the car, not wanting to take his eyes off the road.

But there was no response.

A slight panic began to settle over the fox, as he was having trouble gaining his bearings in this world that was, for all intents and purposes, alien to him. Streetlights blurred as he sped down the road, rapidly approaching the suburbs. Fortunately, it had been a straight shot up to this point, but he was going to have to start navigating them to their destination any moment now.

Foxy knew he had to get Mike back to his apartment. There was no other choice, really, as it was the only place that they would be safe, not to mention the only place Foxy knew of aside from Freddy's. It was fortunate, then, that he had been eagerly surveying their surroundings when Mike had taken him back to his apartment the other night. Turning his head left and right, Foxy tried to pick out any familiar landmarks in the darkness.

The first order of business, however, was a dire need to slow the vehicle down, as Foxy realized they were rapidly approaching an intersection- and the road he was on was coming to an end.

Foxy pulled his foot off the pedal as quickly as he could, initially relieved to see that the car was, in fact, slowing down...but it wasn't going to be enough, they were still going far too fast.

"MIKE!" Foxy shouted desperately as his mind raced in panic.

Desperate to try anything that might save them, Foxy glanced down below at his feet, and noticed another pedal just to the left of the one he had been pressing. Throwing caution to the wind, Foxy slammed down on the pedal, hard, causing the tires to screech as the car swerved dangerously to the left, and then to the right.

Foxy found himself screaming as the car drifted, making a dangerously wide left turn through the intersection, narrowly avoiding going off the road and into a ravine before straightening itself out and reducing its speed once more.

"Well... I s'pose we're goin' this way..." Foxy said as he eased his iron-clad grip on the now dented steering wheel and turned to check on Mike, who was now on the floor of the vehicle, wedged uncomfortably between the front and back seats. Foxy winced guiltily at the sight.

In retrospect, it probably would have been a good idea to learn how to stop the car before driving it, but Freddy hadn't left him much choice.

Now that he knew how to control the vehicle's speed, however, the car was coasting down the quiet suburban road as Foxy continued to scan their surroundings. Suddenly, Foxy felt a small surge of elation as he realized he was starting to recognize where they were. He remembered having taken a particular interest in the large clock-tower that stood proudly in the middle of the shopping center they were now passing by.

 _And here we are..._

Foxy mouthed the words he remembered Mike uttering at just about this spot as he noticed the two large maple trees that stood on either side of the driveway which led...directly to Mike's apartment complex.

Relieved, Foxy guided the vehicle into the parking lot as carefully as he could manage, which involved vaulting the curb only a single time.

Easing the battered car into the spot he had remembered Mike pulling into, he pressed hard on the brake and was satisfied when the vehicle came to a complete stop. Foxy 'breathed' a momentary sigh of relief, and fortunately had the presence of mind to realize that if he needed to move the stick his hook still rested on to get the car to move, he probably needed to move it back to get it to stop. Shifting the gear into 'park' purely by luck, Foxy, with some difficulty, pulled the keys from the ignition and exited the vehicle.

Opening the rear passenger door Foxy frowned as he beheld the tangled form of Mike Schmidt, crammed uncomfortably between the seats. As carefully as he could manage (which wasn't very, with only a single hand) Foxy pulled the man from the vehicle and slammed the door shut.

Carrying Mike in his arms bridal style, Foxy vaulted up the stairwell leading to the fourth floor and erupted onto the landing, oblivious to the cacophony that his heavy metallic footsteps were sending bouncing off the paper-thin walls of the cheap building.

Foxy skidded to a halt in front of room 405, shifting Mike to a partially standing position with the man's arm slung around his neck for support as Foxy fiddled with the key-ring clumsily. Finally, the third key he tried clicked in the lock and allowed him to throw the door open as he scooped Mike into his arms and crossed the threshold, narrowly avoiding being spotted by a neighbor that had peeked out of her room to investigate the source of all the commotion...

Stepping into the living area, Foxy felt like cheering as he took in the sights of the small, familiar room.

"We made it, lad!" Foxy said as he grinned down at Mike, feeling like he had accomplished a great victory.

His grin faded quickly, however, as he saw the wound on Mike's arm was still dripping blood onto the floor, and for the first time he noticed the large gash on the young man's head, the surrounding area blossoming into the beginning of what would surely be a magnificent bruise.

Foxy stood rooted to the spot, holding Mike in his arms, as doubt and indecision paralyzed him. He hadn't thought this far ahead. Mike was seriously injured, and there was no help for him here.

... _Now what_...?

* * *

 **[A/N] Action! Excitement! Writing this chapter was challenging for a number of reasons, but hopefully it turned out well enough. Also, 3,000 views! That's kinda neat. Thanks for reading. ~Cap**


	9. Chapter 9: Bittersweet Memories

Pain.

An ear-piercing shriek sounding in the darkness.

A warm, wet sensation blooming on his right arm.

A sudden increase in velocity, various instances of momentum gained and lost as he tumbled in the dark abyss.

All throughout, he felt a familiar presence nearby.

More pain, this time crashing over his body in waves, lingering and growing stronger as his awareness spread to each of his limbs.

Mike Schmidt slowly opened his eyes as they adjusted to the darkness. This darkness was different from the place he'd been before, however, it was less intense and more...familiar. Despite knowing where he was, as his bedroom slowly came into focus and he became aware of the soft mattress beneath him, he couldn't help but feel utterly perplexed.

 _I'm...alive?_ Mike thought, sluggishly, as a dull ache settled in above his temple.

Had it all been a terrible dream...? Had he never actually gone in for his shift that night after all...?

Though, that wouldn't explain the pain he was feeling all over his body, most notably in his right arm and head. It also didn't explain the state of his room, which looked as if it had been ransacked by burglars. Every drawer of his dresser had been pulled open, the contents lying scattered across the carpeted floor, several articles of clothing were torn to shreds, and most notably, his bed-sheets were stained with streaks of a reddish-brown liquid in several places.

Instinctively, Mike's hand found its way to rest on his arm, finding it to be wrapped and bound by what looked to be an old, white T-shirt of his...

Suddenly, memories of terror and pain came rushing back, and Mike knew that it had not been a dream. The wound on his arm had been left by Chica's wing, and the wound on his head...

Mike moved his hand to touch the side of his head, which he realized was bound similarly to his arm, before pulling it back almost immediately as he winced in pain. That was the one Freddy had given him, just before he lost consciousness.

But again, that didn't explain why he was currently sitting in his room, on his bed...alive.

With some difficulty, Mike poured himself out of his bed, sucking air through his teeth and cringing in pain as he put weight on his right leg. Stumbling clumsily and almost tripping several times on the debris littering the ground, he slowly made his way to his bedroom door.

Pulling the door open only slightly, careful to make as little sound as possible, Mike immediately noticed a pungent odor hanging in the air. It smelled like something was...burning?

Even more confused now than he was before, and slightly more concerned, he stepped out of his room and began making his way down the hall.

"...bloody... _blasted_ thing..."

Mike heard an eerily familiar voice grumble in the distance, as if its owner were conversing with himself, as he continued to creep down the hallway.

A loud banging suddenly began to emanate from nearby, echoing through the otherwise silent apartment, causing Mike to freeze in his tracks.

Soon, the banging subsided, replaced by a frustrated string of curses that were barely audible. He _definitely_ recognized that voice.

Steeling himself, Mike turned the corner from the hallway, stepping into the kitchen and coming to an abrupt halt as he took a moment to comprehend the scene laid out before him.

Standing in his kitchen, turned away from him and facing the opposite counter, was Foxy the Pirate, who had clearly been responsible for the racket Mike had just heard as he resumed banging something against the counter-top.

It was most certainly an unusual and somewhat jarring sight to behold, but Mike didn't get much chance to reflect upon the uncanny scenario as the ultimate meaning of it spread throughout his mind like a warm breeze.

Foxy had saved his life.

Foxy had _somehow_ managed to rescue him from the clutches of certain death, bring him home _and_ tend to his injuries.

He had doubted the animatronic... had treated him more as a contingency than a friend, and yet here he stood. He couldn't help but feel undeserving of what Foxy had done for him, especially as he tried and failed to imagine how the pirate had even pulled it all off.

Consumed by an overwhelming feeling of gratitude, Mike suddenly found himself standing behind Foxy, and without a moment's hesitation, wrapped his arms around the animatronic's torso and rested his fore-head against his red-furred back.

Foxy jolted slightly in surprise as he looked down and noticed the two arms wrapped around his mid-section.

The two were silent for a moment, each unsure of what to say, before Mike broke the silence.

"...thank you..." Mike said in a hoarse voice, suddenly aware of how raw his throat was, no doubt from screaming his lungs out while in the clutches of his would-be murderer only a few short hours ago.

"Ah, erm...don' mention it, lad..." Foxy sputtered awkwardly, a portion of his mind distracted by the embrace...how many years had it been since he'd experienced such a simple form of affection as a hug...? Clearly, it had been long enough that he'd forgotten how to react.

"'sides, I tol' ye I'd keep ye safe from ol' Fazbear, didn' I?" Foxy said with false bravado, attempting to lighten the mood and dispel the awkwardness he felt.

It was true, the pirate had kept his promise, and Mike only felt more guilt for being reminded. Before he knew it, he could feel his throat tightening and his eyes starting to burn.

 _Shit, shit, shit, think of something else_ , Mike pleaded with himself in a desperate attempt to quell the sob threatening to bubble up out of his throat. The absolute last thing he wanted that morning was to feel any weaker than Freddy had already made him feel.

It was only then that he noticed the burning smell that had initially drawn his attention to the kitchen. Turning his head to face the stove, he saw a pan resting upon it, with what looked like eggs- shells and all- bubbling away inside. They definitely looked over-cooked, but they weren't burning...

As his eyes scanned the kitchen counter-tops, Mike observed what looked like the remains of a great battle waged in his kitchen. Pots, pans, utensils, wrappers and eggshells littered the counters...and the floor.

Finally, leaning around Foxy to get a better look at the remaining kitchen space, he saw the culprit. Dented and resting on its side, with Foxy's hooked hand stuck inside it was the toaster, two pieces of completely blackened bread inside.

It was the funniest god damned thing Mike had ever seen.

What started as a low rumble in his chest grew into a breathy chuckle as his throat relaxed, then quickly escalated into a bout of raucous laughter that shook his entire body and made his eyes water.

"Is that- for me?" Mike managed breathlessly between fits of laughter. He was laughing so hard that each breath stung at his chest.

"Aye!" Foxy said with apparent relish, "I figured ye be needin' somethin' ta' help regain yer strength, n'all."

"I didn't- I didn't know you could cook!" Mike said, having calmed somewhat but still chuckling and smiling ear to ear.

"Aye, tha' lass, err, Chica, taugh' me a few things..." Foxy said, his voice trailing off.

Mike hadn't really thought about it before, but now that he did, he realized that Foxy had essentially betrayed his only friends to save his life.

"No good?" Foxy asked with a sigh, noticing the frown on Mike's face.

Mike shook his head vigorously, derailing the depressing train of thought.

"No, no! It's perfect. I really appreciate it, Foxy," Mike said with a reassuring smile. It wasn't perfect, of course, but the very last thing he wanted to do was to throw the incredibly kind gesture back in the fox's face by claiming otherwise.

After helping Foxy extricate his hook from the toaster, Mike ducked around him to grab a plate, plopping onto it the two pieces of charcoal that were once slices of bread before dumping the rubbery egg mixture on top as well.

Sitting down at his small table, Mike stared down at his meal as Foxy stood beside him, watching expectantly with a look of apprehension. The thought of eating what lie on the plate before him was less than appealing, but he figured eating enough of it to be convincing was the very least he could do to begin repaying his debt to the fox.

He would just have to eat his 'eggshell surprise' very, very carefully...

* * *

Mike was jolted awake by a vibrating sensation at his hip. Blinking drowsily, chasing sleep away as he took in his surroundings, he saw that Foxy was still seated beside him on the couch, still watching television.

Wondering how long he'd been out for, Mike reached into his pants pocket and dug out his phone, flipping it open and jabbing the green button before bringing it up against his ear.

"Hello?" Mike answered, groggily.

"M-Michael! This is Michael Schmidt, correct?" the voice on the other end of the phone replied, far too loudly and enthusiastically for Mike's half-awake state.

"...yes?" Mike confirmed, somewhat perplexed, his awkward tone drawing Foxy's attention to the call as he turned away from the television to watch Mike instead. Noticing this, Mike muted the television and put the phone on speaker so Foxy could hear, putting his finger to his lips to remind the pirate to be silent.

"Oh! Oh, thank Go- I mean, ah. Good afternoon, Mr. Schmidt...how are you doing?" asked the clearly frazzled voice that Mike finally realized belonged to his boss, Mr. Anders.

 _Afternoon?_ Mike thought as he glanced at the clock above his television and noticed it was 1:24 PM.

Mike imagined what must have transpired at Freddy's in the past six hours or so. The place would have most likely been left an absolute mess, though he had yet to ask Foxy about what exactly had happened after he'd been knocked out, he did know that he must have been bleeding enough to create quite a grisly scene for the day staff to find.

 _Oh. They thought I was dead._ Mike realized, somewhat irritated but not entirely surprised.

"...Michael?"

"Oh, ah, yes. Sorry. I'm fine..." Mike answered reflexively without thinking before starting again, "...uh, actually... well, I guess you could say I've been...better."

There was no response from Mr. Anders, who was clearly waiting to see what Mike would say next.

"There was an...'incident', last night, you see," Mike continued, attempting to gauge his boss' reaction before continuing.

"I see. That is most unfortunate, are you alright?" Mr. Anders asked innocently.

"Yes, unfortunate," Mike huffed, attempting to keep the emotion out of his voice, "I was injured on-the-job...there weren't any hospital bills but I am in a considerable amount of pain at the moment..." Mike allowed his voice to trail off for emphasis. He knew that because of the non-disclosure agreement he had signed when he took the job, making any threats to go to the authorities or hire a lawyer would be completely meaningless, so he decided to try a different approach.

Mr. Anders was silent as he considered Mike's words carefully. On the one hand, he could tell that he was being played...on the other hand, he noticed that Mike hadn't outright said what had happened or accused him of anything. As much as he hated being in the disadvantaged position, he had to admit, having a night guard who could not only survive _an entire week_ and who knew how to keep his mouth shut was invaluable.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Michael. Why don't you take the night off and get some rest. We wouldn't want you over-exerting yourself," Mr. Anders suggested, hoping Mike would recognize the extremely uncommon offer for what it was- a bribe.

Mike remained silent.

"...a paid night off," Mr. Anders grumbled, sounding as if the words had physically hurt him on their way past his lips.

"Yeah, I suppose that would help a bit," Mike answered with a sneer on his face as he looked over at Foxy who had been listening closely the entire phone call and was wearing an expression of disbelief.

"Well, there you have it. We'll see you Sunday evening, then. Take care, Michael," Mr. Anders said, ending the call.

Mike simply glanced at Foxy with a satisfied look on his face as he held the phone out in front of him.

"Not bad, eh?"

"Are ye crazy, lad? Have ye lost yer marbles?" Foxy said exasperatedly, gesturing at Mike with his hook.

"Huh?" Mike asked, confused. In his opinion, he'd handled that call from his boss pretty well. He'd even gotten a night off! A _paid_ night off!

"Ye can't go back there! Have ye got a death wish? Freddy'll tear ye limb from limb fer wha' ye-...we, did las' nigh'! I cannae believe I'm even havin' ta explain this to ye!" Foxy exclaimed.

Mike blinked a few times, somewhat taken aback by the animatronic's outburst. He'd gotten so used to throwing himself headfirst into danger night after night that it had practically become part of his routine after just one week, albeit an excruciatingly long and exhausting one.

"So, what, you're suggesting that I just never go back?" Mike asked the pirate, secretly hoping he would have a better idea, "and where, then, would that leave you?"

"Ye can jus' take me back an' leave, then" Foxy said with an air of finality.

"No, I'm not doing that," Mike responded immediately with equal resolve.

"Mike...ye can't go back...he'll kill ye, I swear ta' Neptune he'll drag ye under firs' chance he gets," Foxy said, somberly.

Deciding to try a different approach, Mike changed the subject.

"You know, last night wasn't the first time Freddy came to 'visit' me in the office," Mike said, not surprised by the look of shock and confusion dawning on Foxy's face.

"Two nights ago, right after we got back to the restaurant, it was like... he was waiting for me," Mike said with a shudder as he looked back on the moment he realized it wasn't Foxy in the office with him after all.

"I don' understand," Foxy muttered, "why didn' he kill ye when he had the chance, only ta come fer ye the following night?"

"Trust me, I was as confused as you are, but in retrospect, he was obviously just trying to mess with my head...and he succeeded," Mike said. He decided to refrain from telling Foxy about Freddy's accusations of him using the pirate as a shield- a tool. There was no sense in opening that can of worms again when they had obviously moved beyond it.

"Foxy...I know I'm dealing with forces outside the realm of my control in this situation. I've been vaguely aware of that fact from the moment you shoved me in that burlap sack..." Mike said, causing Foxy to wince guiltily and flash a sheepish smile.

"...but I need to know what I'm dealing with, here. Whether I go back to Freddy's or not, after everything I've been through, I feel like I deserve a few answers," Mike concluded, trying to keep the hesitation he felt out of his voice.

Foxy was silent as he stared at the floor in front of him. Minutes passed, and still Foxy said nothing. Just as Mike was about to relent, however, Foxy surprised him by speaking.

"Alrigh'," he said, simply. "I'll tell ye wha' I can. Dunno wha' good it'll do ye."

Mike had so many questions begging, pleading to be asked that it was impossible to choose just one. On top of that, he didn't want to ask anything that would upset the fox, at least not right off the bat. He wasn't going to blow what might be his only chance to learn the true nature of the forces he was tangling with.

However, before Mike could settle on his first question, Foxy spoke once more.

"I s'pose ye be wantin' to know how this happened," Foxy said, gesturing vaguely at himself.

"...what do you mean?" Mike asked, not entirely sure if Foxy meant his body's current state of disrepair or something else entirely...though he had a sinking feeling it was the latter.

"I wasn' always like this... none o' us were," Foxy said gloomily, hoping Mike would understand him so he wouldn't have to spell it out- wouldn't have to relive those horrible memories.

Mike said nothing, however, clearly not seeing the larger picture.

"I used ta' be like ye...ye know...human."

Mike gaped at the animatronic, dumbfounded and at a complete loss for words. Surging up off of the couch so quickly he let loose an involuntary curse as a searing pain shot up his leg as he began to pace slowly around the room, running his hands through his hair.

This was a lot to take in.

Ever since he was a kid, urban legends involving the sordid history of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza were commonly told among friends looking to scare the most impressionable members of their social circles. Ever since those five kids had gone missing at one of the original locations back in the 80's, and were later presumed dead...

Mike froze in his tracks and turned to face Foxy, who was still seated on the couch, watching the man pace nervously.

 _No...that's...that's ridiculous. It's not possible_ , Mike thought to himself.

Was it really, though? Given all that he'd seen, all that he'd experienced the past five nights at Freddy's...

Mike eased himself back onto the couch, shaking slightly.

"Tell me what happened."

* * *

Mike listened in shocked silence as Foxy spoke. A week ago, he would have considered himself insane for giving even a second thought to what he was hearing. It sounded too much like the myths he'd heard on the noisy playgrounds or in the dark basements of his youth...but the way Foxy told it was unlike anything he'd ever heard. His jaw fell open as the pirate described memories of confusion, panic, terror and horrible pain. His hand reflexively clutched at his chest as Foxy was forced to relive the memory of his slow, painful death. The muscles in his face were taught and tense, his eyes burning and his stomach rolling over itself and twisting into knots as the animatronic described his final moments as a human being- a child, barely old enough to comprehend the twisted fate that had befallen him.

Mike hadn't even noticed that Foxy had finished speaking until the deafening silence between them began to echo painfully in his ears.

"You don't...you don't remember anything else...? Anything...before that?" Mike asked at last, dreading the answer he knew was coming.

Foxy shook his head. "Bits an' pieces but...no' really, no."

"And after...?"

"It be...clouded. Don' remember wha' happened 'xactly...mos'ly jus' remember feelin' angry...and alone...all the time. We all did."

 _The others..._ Mike thought to himself as he realized...they'd faced a similar fate. Contrary to everything he wanted to feel towards the other animatronics for what they had put him through, he couldn't help but feel sorry for them. From what little Foxy had been able to tell him, they were complete strangers to one another prior to their tragic deaths, and, being children, the fact that others like them had suffered a similar fate would have been little to no consolation at such a young age. They would have been like islands separated from one another by miles of ocean stretching in every direction, unable to cross the vast distances to console one another. They were just kids, there was no way they had the mental or emotional capacity to deal with what had happened to them. Mike wasn't sure if he himself would have reacted any differently than they had, were he in their position all those years ago...

"Do ye...do ye remember anythin' from when ye were a wee lad?" Foxy asked somberly.

"...bits and pieces," Mike said, realizing that he was in the same boat as Foxy in that regard. Try as he might, he really couldn't remember much from his childhood aside from brief flashes of specific memories, and even those it was as if he was watching from an outsider's perspective...it had simply been too long.

However, as he looked at the animatronic seated before him, one of those very specific memories triggered feelings of familiarity, and echoes of the déjà vu he had felt a few nights ago...

"...I do remember you, though," Mike said, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his lips.

"...wha'?" Foxy asked, perplexed.

"Yeah...I didn't realize it at the time...but thinking about it now, the other night, when I stepped on that nail and you wrapped my toe...it felt like I'd been in that exact situation before."

"Whaddya' mean, lad?" Foxy said, starting to grow impatient.

"I've lived in this town my whole life. Ask any kid who grew up here if they've ever gone to Freddy's and they'll look at you like you're nuts. Of course they did. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who hadn't gone at least once," Mike stated matter-of-factually.

"One of the earliest memories I have from my childhood is of going to Freddy's for a 'friend's' birthday party. I don't think we were actually friends, but our parents were. I didn't hang out with the other kids much, in fact, I'm pretty sure most of them hated me. One of the only things that really stuck out about that day was that I got hurt- I think one of my 'friends' pushed me because I was blocking his view of...well...your show, actually," Mike recalled as Foxy listened intently.

"...and then you showed up," Mike said with a small smile.

"I'd skinned my knees pretty badly when I fell, and you must've noticed because you were there in a flash, telling me that I'd be fine and that you'd get me 'all fixed up in no time'," Mike said, his smile growing broader as he reminisced.

"You helped me up and walked me over to one of the staff, who took me to find my mom and got me patched up. I remember telling my mom when we were leaving what had happened. I don't think she believed me, but I told her that you were one of the nicest people I'd ever met," Mike said, his smile now plastered on his face as he finished his story. It was a quaint memory, but he looked back on it fondly, especially now that he remembered it more clearly since having met Foxy once again.

Foxy...who was now looking at Mike like he was seeing him for the first time, his eyes reduced to slits. His jaw moved up and down slightly, as if he was trying with all his might to think of what to say next.

And then Mike heard it.

It was barely audible at first, but it grew steadily in volume until he could clearly hear the crackling sound of static emanating from Foxy's mouth. It was like he had attempted to tune into a radio frequency with no reception.

"H-hey, you alright?" Mike asked, concerned. Now would not be the best time to have the animatronic start 'malfunctioning' as he sat inches away from him on the couch.

But then he noticed Foxy's slumped and sagging shoulders, his arms hanging limply at his sides as he stared down at the couch cushions dejectedly. Mike had referred to him as a _person_ , something Foxy realized he had never been called in his entire life- not a _thing,_ not a _robot,_ but a _person-_ and for some reason, that had been the final crack that broke the dam.

"A-...are you...crying?"

The static only grew louder as if to confirm Mike's suspicions.

The 7-foot tall animatronic-pirate-fox sitting on his couch was crying.

"S-stop," Mike said as he noticed his own throat start to tighten.

"If you c-cry, then I'm gonna cry," Mike choked out as his eyes started to burn.

"...and we'll just be two of the most pathetic pirates there ever were," Mike said, half-chuckling, half-sobbing as the tears he could no longer hold back started to stream down his face.

Foxy only 'cried' harder at that, and Mike couldn't take it anymore. Despite everything the animatronics had put him through, he'd never felt so sorry for anyone than he did for the fox sitting before him. He shifted himself so that he was seated directly beside Foxy, wrapping his arms around the animatronic's torso and resting his head on his chest. He wasn't sure if his gesture would be of any comfort to the pirate, but it was the only thing he could think to do.

The two stayed like that for a while, long after the tears had subsided, each finding comfort in the closeness of another who truly understood just how screwed up everything was.

"M-mike...m'so sorry, lad," Foxy spoke at last.

"For what?" Mike asked, leaning back from the fox's side to look him in the eye.

"Fer everythin'. Do ye...do ye think any of the others were..." Foxy said, his voice trailing off as if he were physically unable to finish his question.

Mike understood immediately what he was asking, however. Foxy wanted to know if any of the other night guards had once been kids who had come to see him at Freddy's, just like Mike had.

"...I don't know," Mike answered honestly, "...but if any of them were close to my age, then...probably."

Foxy's face fell, surprising Mike that he could manage to look even sadder than he already did, as he dragged his metallic legs up onto the couch, pulling them up to his chest and burying his face against them.

"...I need ta' be alone fer a bit," Foxy said, his voice somewhat muffled as it filtered out through the limbs he had drawn in tight in an obvious attempt to comfort himself.

Mike nodded in understanding, rising from the couch and walking towards his bedroom.

"I'll be right in here, if you need me," he said, not surprised when the fox said nothing in return.

Closing his bedroom door quietly, Mike carefully picked his way through the debris on the floor and eased himself into his bed. His leg and arm were still terribly sore, and as he laid in the dark, silent room he became aware once more of the throbbing pain in his temple from where Freddy had struck him.

Mike closed his eyes as he attempted to force himself to fall asleep, not wanting to dwell any longer on the emotionally draining events of the day.

 _Well, at least I've got the night off,_ he thought, as he finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

 **[A/N]: I did warn you that there would be feels. If no feels were felt, you will receive your refund in approximately 7²² – 10²² business days. Thanks for reading. (Also, wow, views have almost doubled since the posting of the previous chapter, bringing us well over 5k. I know you guys are out there reading this, so leave a review already!) ~Cap**


	10. Chapter 10: Calm Before the Storm

The boom of a heavy door slamming shut reverberated off of the walls of the empty restaurant. Through the old, yellowing windows the janitorial staff could be seen climbing into their cars and heading home quite a bit earlier than usual tonight. Still, they had done a commendable job- as good a job of cleaning greasy pizza stains, sticky soda puddles and the occasional smattering of coagulated gore as anyone could manage to do whilst casting panicked glances at every dark corner or suggestion of movement all night.

Oh yes, they were all too familiar with what went on at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza after midnight. After all, they'd spent their fair share of hour scrubbing splattered viscera off of the floors and walls- and occasionally the ceilings- and had become quite skilled at removing stubborn bloodstains from surfaces of all kinds. And on nights like these, when they were called to report for their shifts particularly early, well, it was almost always for the same reason.

Truth be told, many of them were starting to grow more than a little concerned. They made a point of not knowing each other outside of work, hell, most of them didn't even know each others real names, but that hadn't stopped them from conspiring in hushed whispers as they worked. One thing they all shared in common was a somewhat sordid past, several of them unable to find work elsewhere due to their petty criminal records. Grateful as they were to have steady jobs, the weight of the things they were expected to do weighed heavily on each of them. The restaurant's owner was a shrewd man, he knew all too well that none of them could risk running to the authorities and tipping them off, even anonymously. Not that an anonymous tip about murderous, robotic animals would be taken seriously by anyone that mattered.

At least this time there had been no corpse to dispose of... though that fact conferred little comfort to them as it left their imaginations free to wonder at what horrible fate had befallen the unfortunate soul the night before.

Well, that and the fact that they were running out of places to hide the bodies...

* * *

Freddy awoke with a start, a snarl caught in his throat as the memories of the night before began rolling over him, his rage as fresh as it had been as he stood out in the parking lot, watching that little red car disappear into the night.

But there was another feeling, one that had become foreign to him...weakness. He hadn't been able to stop the night guard from escaping. He'd even broken his own rule and left the building in pursuit, his anger boiling over and causing him to lose control.

He was the king of his domain, and yet, in that moment, he felt as small and helpless as a child. For all his brute strength, his savage demeanor and cold, calculating wit, he had been powerless to stop them from leaving. Never before had he felt so insignificant as he had in that moment, as the walls of his influence shrank around him, a choking feeling of claustrophobia harshly reminding him just how limited he truly was.

 _Mike Schmidt_.

How he _despised_ that night guard. Never had he been so outmaneuvered, so outplayed...so _beaten_ at his own game. He knew the night guard wouldn't be stupid enough to ever set foot in the restaurant again after his narrow escape, meaning any chance for revenge was completely out of reach.

Before he could stop himself, he was stomping off the stage and heading straight for the party tables so meticulously cleaned and prepared for the next day by the staff, feeling a slight twinge of satisfaction as he sent chairs flying and tables flipping over, spilling utensils and party decorations to the floor with a clatter.

On the show stage, Bonnie shifted uncomfortably as he cast a sideways glance at Chica, who seemed relatively unfazed by Freddy's outburst.

"Bonnie," Freddy spoke suddenly, shattering the silence that had settled over the restaurant, causing Bonnie to jolt as his eyes snapped back at Freddy who now stood stock-still, facing the opposite wall.

"Y-yeah?" Bonnie stuttered, startled at being addressed so abruptly.

"Clean up this mess," Freddy commanded with a snort before stalking off toward the west hallway.

"Aw, come on! That's not-" Bonnie began to protest, clamping his mouth shut when Freddy's head spun around to face him, his darkened eyes locked with the rabbit's, daring him to finish his sentence.

Any desire to refuse Freddy's command vacated Bonnie's mind immediately as he found himself nodding his head sheepishly, clambering down off the stage and hurriedly setting about his task, collecting the chairs that had been strewn about the room and flipping the tables upright with relative ease.

Satisfied, Freddy turned and left the room without another word.

As soon as Bonnie thought the bear to be out of ear-shot, he turned to Chica who still stood upon the stage, watching the bunny work.

"A little help?" Bonnie asked, hopefully, receiving an indifferent shrug from the bird in return.

"He didn't ask me, he asked you, and it looks like you're doing just fine," Chica stated, plainly, before ambling off the stage and in the direction of the kitchen.

Bonnie watched her leave, mortified at the thought of having to clean up the fallout of Freddy's vented frustrations all on his own. He couldn't help but feel a bitterness toward his situation settle over him, the injustice of his existence made clear. Perhaps he was being a bit overly dramatic, he admitted to himself, after all, he was asked to clean up some toppled furniture, not bear the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It was his utter inability to disobey Freddy's orders that consumed his mind above all else as he resumed his chore. It wasn't so much that he _wanted_ to disobey, more the fact that he physically _couldn't_ that disturbed him. For whatever reason, he found himself compelled to submit to Freddy's will when push came to shove, which, admittedly, wasn't often. Freddy looked out for their best interests, all of them. And though Bonnie knew this, he couldn't help but wonder if it was the same for the others as it was for him. The others...

 _Foxy_.

Foxy was clearly an exception. Not only had he deceived Freddy, he had openly rebelled against him. But how, and why? Was it really because the human had done something to him, as Freddy had said? Had the pirate truly turned his back on them, after all these years?

These questions, and many more like them, churned in Bonnie's mind as he worked; the sounds of metal meeting linoleum tile were all that could be heard at Freddy's that night.

* * *

"You know, you still haven't told me exactly what happened yesterday morning," Mike observed, grasping his cup of coffee with both hands and raising it to his mouth to drink deeply from it. It wasn't often that he got to enjoy a cup of his favorite brew during the appropriate early morning hours, rather than chugging it down out of necessity during the waning hours of the afternoon.

Foxy shifted uncomfortably in his position at the opposite end of the couch, the two having reclaimed their respective positions that they had occupied much of the day before.

"I'm no' sure ye wan' ta know..." Foxy admitted, shifting in his seat once more, pretending to find something on the other side of the room particularly interesting.

"Why not? Come on, please?" Mike asked, making his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

"...alrigh', but don' say I didn' warn ye."

Mike listened, enraptured as Foxy spun a tale of his daring rescue and escape from the clutches of Freddy. There was no doubt in Mike's mind that the pirate was embellishing his tale at least a little bit, but it was clear that it was for the most part true, as there would have been no other way for him to have gotten Mike out of there without having gone up against such staggering odds.

Mike noticed Foxy wore an expression of slight regret as the fox described the rescue operation, it was clear that he had not particularly enjoyed attacking his friends, but if he had hesitated for even a moment, it's highly likely that Mike would not be sitting there at that very moment, a fact for which he was extremely grateful.

When Foxy began describing his adventure in Mike's car, the young man wore an expression of sheer awe. Obviously they had driven, as there was no way Mike would have survived the trip on foot as it would have taken another two hours at least before his wounds were attended to. Even still, he was utterly floored at Foxy's ability to have picked up enough just from watching him do it a couple times that he was able to get them home in one piece.

Mike's demeanor soured somewhat when Foxy sheepishly recounted of the near-fatal crash he had narrowly managed to avoid, and his face twisted in annoyance when he was told of his time spent jammed between the seats on the floor of the car. At least that explained the lingering soreness he still felt all over his entire body.

He was definitely on the mend, however. The gash on his arm was no longer wrapped, and thankfully hadn't gotten infected, and so with copious amounts of antibiotic ointment would be little more than a scar and a bad memory in a week or so. As expected, the wound on his head had blossomed into an impressive bruise, centered on his right temple, but Mike wasn't too concerned about how it might affect his appearance and was more grateful that there had been no serious damage. If the bear had managed to give him a concussion, it's entirely possible that he never would have woken up again after passing out, despite Foxy's valiant efforts to save him.

As Foxy finished his dramatic retelling by describing his efforts to staunch the life-threatening flow of blood pouring from Mike's wounds, Mike once again felt a swell of gratitude towards him. Resolve refreshed, he decided it was time to talk business.

"Foxy," Mike began determinedly, "we need to talk about what's going to happen tonight."

"Wha'?" Foxy asked, caught somewhat off-guard as he was just wrapping up his story, "don' tell me yer still thinkin' abou' goin' back?"

Mike simply nodded. Foxy emulated a sigh and shook his head.

"Ye've got a thick skull, lad, I though' we settled this already."

"Good thing, too, otherwise I'd probably have more than just a bruise," Mike said, the corners of his mouth upturned in a sly grin as he pointed at the impressive bruise on the side of his head.

Foxy couldn't help but chuckle at that, and couldn't help feel amazed at Mike's dogged determination and relentless spirit. He truly was one to be admired.

"Look," Mike said, all humor gone from his tone as he adopted one of seriousness, "I owe you my life several times over. I want to help you, all of you, if possible. I got you into this mess, so let me try and help you out of it."

"Is it really tha' hard fer ye ta be indebted ta me?" Foxy said with a wry grin, choosing to hide behind humor rather than be consumed by the fear gnawing at his mind at the prospect of Mike thrusting himself into danger once more.

"Tch, no," Mike said with a flustered sigh as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "you're missing the point. Knowing what I know now, I can't just leave things the way they are. Besides, we can't just stay here. If we don't go back, and the owner notices you're missing, the police will get involved, and I'll be fired...or thrown in jail...most likely both."

Foxy had already began to regret telling Mike the truth of Freddy's history, and now it looked as if his greatest hesitation against doing so was starting to be realized. But, he knew arguing any further was a lost cause at this point. Foxy could see the resolve in Mike's eyes- there was no hidden agenda there.

"Alrigh'." Foxy relented in the face of Mike's iron will for what felt like the hundredth time by this point, "Alright. We'll go back."

"BUT," Foxy exclaimed, holding his hook in front of Mike's face for emphasis before the night guard could look too satisfied with himself, "we're no' goin' in there withou' a plan."

"Obviously," Mike said with a roll of his eyes, "I may work at a children's restaurant that serves up crappy pizza and a side of god-awful music, but I'm not a complete idiot."

Foxy tried to not take offense to that.

* * *

 **[A/N] Whew. It's been a while since the last chapter. Not the most action-packed chapter, but gives us a look into what some of the other characters are thinking. As always, thanks for reading, and please leave a review! ~ Cap**


	11. Chapter 11: Secrets

6:00 PM.

Mike Schmidt stared unblinkingly at the cheap digital clock now sitting perched atop his dresser, having been returned to its proper place along with the few other possessions that furnished the young man's room. He had finished cleaning up the mess Foxy had made the day before almost an hour ago, and had since found that he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. With the evening growing ever nearer, Mike found his resolve eroding with each passing minute. Each darkened and fading bloodstain he had uncovered while cleaning reminded him of the waking nightmare he would be willfully walking into a short five and a half hours from now.

It wasn't so much that he didn't still want to help Foxy...and the others, to a slightly lesser a degree- he did- but he was starting to sincerely doubt his ability to succeed. Sure, the pair had formulated some semblance of a plan to approach the night's shift, but as it ran through Mike's head as if on repeat, he was having an increasingly difficult time convincing himself that they could pull it off.

Mike became aware of the hand in his pocket, which had begun fumbling with his phone. With a sigh, he dug it out and flipped it open. He had told himself he wasn't going to call them, he didn't want them to worry about him, but knowing full well that he might not survive the night, he felt he owed them that much.

His thumb hovered over the green 'call' button for a few moments before his guilt finally won out as he jabbed at the button and brought the phone to his ear.

 _..._

 _..._

" _Hi!"_ A woman's voice spoke into his ear, cheerful and upbeat. Recognizing the tone immediately despite not having spoken to his mom for almost a month now, he knew he had been sent to voice-mail, and shifted the phone to his other ear with a sigh as he began preparing whatever it was he was going to say as the message continued.

"... _you've reached Amy Schmidt! Unfortunately I'm unable to answer the phone right now, so please leave a short message and I'll get back to you ASAP! Thanks!"_

 _Beep._

"Uh, hey... Mom," Mike began awkwardly, having to clear his throat a couple times as his voice was hoarse from disuse, before continuing. "Sorry I haven't called in a while... I know you've tried to call me a few times, but I've been pretty...busy...with my new job, and all."

He was already starting to have second thoughts. He knew she wouldn't take the news of him having accepted a job at Freddy Fazbear's very well, for reasons beyond just the dark rumors surrounding the place that had spread like wildfire in recent years, but he also knew there was a very real chance that he would not ever be returning from his next shift. That said, the very last thing he wanted in the event of his untimely demise was for his parents to get themselves entangled in the nightmare world he'd been living in for the past week.

Mike realized with a start that he had been silent for the better part of a minute, completely absorbed in thought, before he continued once more.

"Look, Mom, I've actually gotta go, but I'll give you a call tomorrow. If you don't hear from me for a couple days, swing by the apartment. I'll be here. Love you," Mike said, ending the call with a frustrated sigh.

At least this way his parents would know he had gone missing if he never returned from Freddy Fazbear's the next morning, and he was still free to resolve the situation on his own without involving anyone else unnecessarily, he thought to himself. And, as fate would have it, hearing his mother's voice had given him the jolt of determination he needed to shake off the despondence that had overtaken him as he slipped into his uniform and scooped his wallet and keys off of his desk.

Stepping out of his bedroom, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness that had crept into his apartment- it was almost time.

"Foxy," Mike said, announcing his presence and trying his level best to sound confident, and yet he couldn't help but be slightly unnerved when the pirate's head swiveled around, the fox's glowing yellow eyes that he had come to associate with a feeling of safety also reminding him of what lie in store for him.

"It's time. You ready, Captain?" Mike said, averting his eyes from Foxy's piercing gaze.

"Are ye?" Foxy asked.

Not trusting his voice to not betray him, Mike simply nodded in response.

"Alrigh', then," Foxy said, rising from the couch and moving to stand before Mike in what seemed like a single, fluid motion.

Mike had only taken a single step toward the front door before Foxy spoke again.

"Mike," he said, simply.

"What?" Mike said, stopping in his tracks as he turned to face the pirate once more.

"B'fore we go, ye need ta promise me one thing," Foxy said.

"...what?"

"If something happens ta me, or at the very firs' sign tha' our 'plan' isn't going ta work, ye'll leave tha' place and never look back," Foxy said in a practiced tone, a dead giveaway that he had prepared for this moment.

Mike swallowed hard, his mouth having gone completely dry as he searched for the rebuttal that was lodged in his throat, managing only a raspy stammer.

"Promise me, lad," Foxy repeated firmly.

Mike could only stare down at the floor as he nodded slowly.

 _Coward_ , he thought to himself.

* * *

The drive to the pizzeria was as silent as it was uneventful. There was hardly a single car other than his own on the roads- after all, not many people went out on Sunday night after 10 o'clock.

Mike glanced over at Foxy who was sitting in the passenger seat, leaning his head out the window, watching the night rush by as the wind caused the fox's mechanical ears to wiggle comically. A sad smile tugged at the corner of Mike's lips when he realized the pirate was trying to enjoy what might be his last opportunity to see the world outside the walls of Freddy Fazbear's, though the smile faded when he realized the same could be said for himself.

Before he knew it, they had arrived. Mike hardly remembered the drive here, feeling like he had only pulled out of the apartment complex a few minutes ago, and yet there they sat, the car's engine idling quietly as the headlights illuminated the rusting and faded door to the service entrance of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

Mike turned his head to find Foxy staring at him intently, giving him a steely glare that said, _are you sure you want to go through with this?_

Taking a deep breath, Mike pulled his keys from the ignition and stepped out of the vehicle, moving around to the back of the car and opening the trunk. Foxy joined him at his side and accepted the bundle of cloth that Mike thrust into his arms before making his way toward the restaurant. After fumbling with the old and worn lock for only a few seconds, Mike heard the lock pop and he pulled at the handle, unconcerned by the loud groan of protest the door made as it swung open. He peered into the darkened corridor beyond, memories of being cornered by Freddy in that very spot flashing through his mind.

 _Well, this is it_ , he thought to himself, giving Foxy a resolute nod.

No turning back, now.

* * *

The eerie silence in the darkened pizzeria was disrupted by the barely audible whirring and rustling of gears and servos as Freddy Fazbear awoke from his slumber. Immediately, the rage that had consumed him the night before made its presence known even as it burned like a dull ember in his mind, the sour taste of defeat still hanging over his consciousness.

It was then that he became aware of the subtle movement in his periphery, turning his head just in time to see what appeared to be the form of Foxy the Pirate slipping behind the curtains of Pirate Cove...a large, linen sack bulging with some unknown mass slung over his shoulder.

Freddy could hardly believe what he was seeing. A toothy smile spread across his maw as he fought to contain his savage impulses.

Did they _really_ believe that that would work this time? Freddy knew the human wasn't half as smart as he considered himself to be, but this was just _insulting_. And yet, he couldn't help but feel the thrill of his impending revenge on the wretched night guard filling him up as his servos began to hum excitedly, his body practically trembling with anticipation.

By now, both Chica and Bonnie were active as well, both staring at their leader, partially out of concern, but also in confusion. They had never seen him this worked up before. Well, at least not since...

"Bonnie. Chica," Freddy spoke suddenly, "come with me. We're going to pay a visit to our good friend."

"Who?" Bonnie asked, curiously, prompting Chica to lean back slightly so she could see the purple rabbit clearly, her half-lidded eyes giving him a look that said, _"Seriously?"_

"Oh. Right," Bonnie said, sheepishly, realizing his mistake.

Freddy simply shook his head and stepped down off the stage with a dull thud, motioning for the others to follow as he made his way toward Pirate Cove- the self-satisfied grin on his face growing ever larger as he neared his destination.

Pausing for a moment to ensure his lackeys were in place behind him, he peeled back the star-spangled curtains and stepped through, just in time to hear the soft _thunk_ of wood-on-wood as something was pushed closed, but he couldn't see where it had come from, what with the large pirate ship prop in the center of the cove blocking his view.

Motioning for the other two to approach from the right, Freddy took the left, wanting to ensure there would be no room for escape as the three animatronics circled around the ship. Freddy's gaze swept the back of the room for signs of movement, but found nothing.

"Can I help ye, lads and lass?" came Foxy's voice, cutting through the oppressive silence in the cove like a knife, causing the others to jump slightly as they wheeled around to find him leaning against the backside of the ship, inspecting his hook with apparent interest.

Freddy said nothing in response, instead moving for the treasure chest props scattered throughout the back of the cove and popping them open one-by-one, a feeling of irritation gnawing at him as he realized he'd been in this exact same situation only a few days ago.

 _Empty... Empty... Empty... Empty..._

 _Empty._

Every chest was either completely empty or contained only a few props from Foxy's old show. Just as the bear was starting to lose patience, however, he pulled open the lid of the second-to-last chest and found the large linen sack he had seen Foxy carrying into the cove. Wasting no time, Freddy reached into the chest and yanked it open, entirely unsurprised but no less irritated to find that it contained nothing but miscellaneous articles of clothing.

Closing the lid of the chest softly, Freddy turned and stalked toward Foxy, stopping in front of him and leveling a deadpan glare at the pirate.

"Where is he, Foxy," Freddy demanded.

"Hm?" Foxy said, finally meeting Freddy's piercing glare, "who ye be meanin', Freddy?" the fox asked with practiced innocence.

Freddy, temper boiling over, surged forward and seized Foxy by the shoulders, shaking him violently.

"THE NIGHT GUARD. WHERE. IS. HE?" Freddy roared in Foxy's face, his booming voice echoing throughout the restaurant.

Just as Foxy opened his mouth to reply, a loud crash sounded from elsewhere in the restaurant, Freddy's head snapping to face the source of the disruption for a moment before slowly turning back to face the pirate, who now wore a slightly distressed look which did not go unnoticed, Freddy's muzzle twisting into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Ah, right on cue," Freddy whispered just loudly enough for Foxy to hear, him, "and don't think you're going to be coming to his rescue this time. Our little game ends tonight."

"Bonnie. Chica. Why not spend some quality time with our dear friend here? It's been so long since you've had a chance to chat...," Freddy suggested sweetly as he released Foxy and made his way for the cove's exit before turning to face them once more. "And make sure he _stays_ here," he commanded before slipping through the curtains soundlessly.

* * *

Mike narrowly avoided having his arm snapped like a twig as he pulled it free of the heavy door's path as it came crashing down after he had slapped the button to close it from his position outside the office. Having already closed the other door, the office was now completely barricaded, and also completely empty. Straining his ears in the tenuous silence that had fallen over the restaurant after the crashing boom the door had made finally faded out, he managed to hear the sound he was waiting for- the dull thud of something heavy and padded dropping down onto the linoleum floors. It sounded like it had come from the direction of Pirate Cove, and if it was who he thought it was, well...the game had begun anew.

The success or failure of Mike's next move was left completely to chance. No matter how he had sliced it during their planning session, there had been no way to avoid it- if Freddy were to approach the office from the west hallway where he was currently crouched, then that would be it. Game over. Fully aware of the fact that his life now rested on what was essentially a 50-50 chance, he waited. Muscles coiled and tense, not daring to blink or draw a single breath, he waited.

The sound of footsteps came slowly at first, before rapidly accelerating in pace, quickly matching the furious pounding of Mike's heart in his chest as he prepared for the worst...but it never came. Freddy was approaching from the east. Mike had won the coin flip.

 _Run._

Reminded by pure animal instinct that sitting around patting himself on the back was a fantastic way to get killed, Mike lunged forward, moving as quickly as he could down the long hallway while being careful to make as little noise as possible, which wasn't all that difficult a feat to accomplish without shoes on.

Poking his head out into the main party room to ensure the coast was clear, he was satisfied when he saw nothing. With a quick glance toward Pirate Cove he could discern what sounded like voices speaking urgently to one another in hushed tones, but he didn't have time to try and make out what they were saying.

Mike slipped through the double doors leading to the kitchen, pausing for a moment as he was shocked to find it completely illuminated. Having grown so accustomed to seeing the kitchen as nothing more than an impenetrable veil of darkness through the security cameras, it was a bit jarring to see it so clearly for the first time. It was, for all intents and purposes, completely ordinary looking, featuring everything you'd expect to see in a restaurant's kitchen. Sure, it was a little dingy, but that was to be expected given the state of the rest of the place. Taking a few moments to acclimate himself with the room's layout, he quickly began yanking open cabinets and drawers, pulling out anything that might be of use, along with anything that looked particularly heavy and metallic.

Aware of the fact that he was making a considerable amount of noise, Mike gathered up the few items he had chosen to bring with him into his arms...and sent everything else crashing to the floor. Pots, pans, plates, utensils, practically everything but the kitchen sink was sent tumbling to the ground, filling the kitchen with a cacophony of metallic clanks. Mike didn't stick around to witness the aftermath of his handiwork, however, as he had already launched himself through the double doors and slid under a party table just in time to see a pair of thick brown legs emerge from the east hallway and make their way for the kitchen. Seeing first-hand how quickly Freddy was capable of moving when he wanted to sent waves of terror crashing through Mike's body, and with that adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he crawled out from his hiding place and bolted for the entrance to the Backstage, swallowing the whimper of fear bursting to escape from his strained lungs as he burst through the door and slammed it shut.

Putting as much distance between himself and the door as possible, he moved into the far corner of the dark room, and waited, hardly daring to draw breath.

It was then that he heard it, the dreary laughter he had come to know all to well, echoing down the hallway. He didn't bother trying to hide himself at this point, for all the good it would do, and the last thing he wanted was to pin himself into a position he couldn't escape from. His muscles tensed and he couldn't suppress a sharp inhalation of breath as he watched the backstage door being slowly pulled open, revealing the form of the restaurant's eponymous animatronic. Partially hidden in shadow, Freddy's eyes glowed brightly in the darkness, already centered directly on Mike's position, staring him down like a predator would its doomed prey. The bear truly was a terrifying sight to behold in his element, whether he was actively trying to be or not, it didn't matter, his predatory gaze never left Mike as he slowly stepped into the room, gently closing the door behind him and plunging them both into almost total darkness. The only light that now remained was cast by Freddy's horrifying visage, his eyes and mouth seemingly floating in the inky blackness that surrounded them.

Mike strained his ears as he listened for the telltale sounds of movement, but he heard nothing aside from his own heart hammering away in his chest, threatening to give out.

"I'm surprised at you, Michael," Freddy spoke suddenly, startling Mike half to death.

"I expected more from you," Freddy continued, "I expected some semblance of a challenge, at the very least, not...whatever you call _this_."

"You don't know anything about me," Mike said, finding his voice much sooner this time than he had during their last encounter.

"Don't I? What's there to know? How _complex_ could Michael Schmidt possibly be? You're a nobody, a loser with no prospects, and no future," Freddy sneered as he began to move closer to Mike's position, the thump of his heavy footsteps practically booming in the otherwise silent room. "Why else would you be working here?" Freddy added, sounding as smug as he looked.

"Oh yeah? That's rich, coming from you. Where do you get off telling me _I'm_ a nobody? You're a fucking children's toy that happens to get off on murdering innocent people," Mike replied, attempting to sound as casual as he could possibly manage despite his trembling. "You can't do a damn thing without relying on the 'losers' like me that keep this place running."

Freddy's grin widened and his eyes flashed as he suddenly moved so that he was inches from Mike's face.

"You think so, huh?" Freddy whispered, chuckling as he straightened to his full height and took a few steps away from the night guard before turning to regard him once more. "Well, that's fine. It doesn't really matter what you think, because in a few minutes, you'll be as dead as the rest. But, I suppose I could humor you and explain to you why, at this particular moment, you're only dead wrong."

Mike said nothing as Freddy turned and walked around the table in the center of the room, his arms clasped behind his back as he regarded the ceiling thoughtfully for a few moments.

"You know, just between you and me, I'm the only reason this place even exists," Freddy said, simply.

Mike said nothing, hesitant to point out the fact that he knew this wasn't the first Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, and that Freddy saying this place existed "because of him" was akin to Mickey Mouse claiming he himself was responsible for Disney World.

As if he were reading Mike's mind, Freddy continued. "Now, I may not have laid the bricks by hand, but none of this would have been built if it weren't for me," he said with a hint of pride as he turned his gaze around the room.

Mike snorted dismissively, sighing as he shook his head. "You know, delusions of grandeur are pretty common among schizophrenics, maybe you should get your head checked," he suggested, as mockingly as he could manage despite his nerves.

Freddy turned to face the night guard, eyes narrowed as the slightest suggestion of a grin started to spread across his features.

"For such a stupid kid, you've sure got a smart mouth," Freddy remarked as he approached the night guard with measured steps, "but I like that. Makes it all the more...satisfying, in those final moments, when you realize you've just got nothing left to say." Freddy hovered inches from Mike's face, his cruel smile lingering for a few moments more before he continued.

"Funny thing, now that I think about it, you actually remind me of someone," Freddy muttered thoughtfully as he continued to stare at the night guard point blank, as if looking directly through him at the wall behind. "He had a smart mouth too. Didn't do him much good, in the end," he added with a quiet chuckle.

"We were often treated to one of his _hilarious_ anecdotes when he was harvesting us for parts to repair the other, shall we say...less intelligently inclined animatronics, whenever they broke down... Which was often, the cheap pieces of garbage," Freddy muttered irritably.

"...other... animatronics...?" Mike asked, confused.

Suddenly, a spark ignited in Mike's mind, as if awakening a slumbering thought that had occurred to him the day before, when Foxy had told him the truth about his and the others' fates. Of course...none of what the pirate had described had taken place at _this_ particular location, which made sense now that he thought about it, considering this place had been built when he was about five years old, and the dark rumors plaguing Freddy Fazbear's Pizza originated long before then. Why had Foxy neglected to tell him this? Had he simply thought it to be an unimportant detail? Or...was Foxy still hiding something from him? The disturbing thought sent a fresh pang of nervous anxiety through his body.

"Hmph. They really were shoddily made pieces of junk, always breaking down," Freddy recalled. "One, in particular, needed repairs on a daily basis...but, fortunately, genius that I am, I was able to push both them and that insufferable mechanic out of the picture in one... fell... swoop," Freddy said as he waved his hand through the air for effect.

"...how?" Mike asked, unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer.

* * *

 _Freddy Fazbear's Pizza – November XX, 1987_

 _It was a relatively quiet Wednesday night, no doubt owing to the approaching holidays- as most families were coming together to celebrate one another's company and the spirit of the season, it wasn't often that people came to Freddy's for birthday parties during the week. Even so, there had been a handful of parties that day, and, as usual, one of the animatronics was in dire need of repair come closing time. This particular animatronic was more likely to be left in an unfortunate state of disrepair the younger the partygoers of the day had been, and today had been no exception, seeing two birthday parties, one for a six year old boy and one for a four year old girl. This particular animatronic took up residence in the party room dedicated to the younger clientele- it was a vixen with white fur and rosy red cheeks- or at least, that's what the animatronic was supposed to be. Nowadays, it would've been nearly impossible to tell, were it not for the lucky fact that the animatronic's face had gone largely unscathed, the young children thankfully being much too short to reach it, as they were fond of tugging and climbing and roughhousing with the fox as rambunctious children are wont to do. On occasion, they would even manage to dislodge parts from the animatronic's suit, requiring just such the repairs that the young mechanic would once again need to perform on this very night. The animatronic's consistent state of disrepair earned it the name everyone but the children now referred to it by – The Mangle._

 _In fact, it was just about that time, as the last of the customers filtered out of the restaurant, the young man could be found in the Parts & Service room, doing a little bit of shopping to prepare for tonight's project._

" _Sorry bud, looks like I'll be needing this," the mechanic sneered as he unscrewed and plucked one of Foxy's ears from his head, dropping it unceremoniously into one of the pouches on his work belt. Gathering his things and turning to leave the room, he felt that something was out of place...quite literally in this case. Hadn't there been a spare Freddy suit? Where was it?_

 _Deciding it wasn't his problem nor in his job description to go hunting down renegade bear costumes, the mechanic made his way to Kid's Cove._

 _Making his way to the garishly decorated corner where the animatronic made its home, he took immediate note of the fact that it now sat on the floor, leaning up against the wall for support, looking like it had sustained some damage to its legs as well which kept it from standing on its own._

" _Damn kids...Though I suppose I might be out of a job if it weren't for the little shits, huh?" he laughed to himself as he noticed the animatronic's ear, or lack thereof- it was missing just as he had been told. No doubt one of the little bastards had ripped it off and gone home with it in their pocket._

 _Setting his tools down with a sigh, he moved toward the motionless animatronic, propping it up and leaning its head back so he could work._

" _Hm? That's odd," the mechanic remarked as he heard something swing open as he moved the animatronic. As it turned out, the small patch panel on the back of the animatronic's head had fallen open, an unusual occurrence as it was typically screwed shut, and it's not as if any of the children carried around power tools._

" _Hmph. Cheap-ass screw must've broke, boss-man probably bought the shit he gives me to fix these pieces of junk up off the back of a truck," he muttered as he fumbled with the panel before securely fastening it shut once more._

" _Alright ugly, let's get this over with so I can get the hell out of here."_

 _Digging the ear he had scavenged from the older Foxy model out of his work belt, the mechanic leaned over the prone form of the Mangle and began to screw the ear into place. It was then that he noticed a faint humming coming from somewhere in the animatronic's skull._

" _Huh?" he muttered, leaning back from the animatronic's face and regarding it with a perplexed look as he noticed its otherwise darkened eyes were aglow with a single, bright mote of light._

 _Before he even had a chance to react, however, the animatronic lunged at him._

 _The high-pitched screeching of metal on metal harshly contrasted the sickly, dull squelch that immediately followed...as the animatronic's teeth found purchase on the man's skull, sinking into his flesh and cracking the bone beneath._

 _Somewhere else in Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, an animatronic smiled, as an ear-piercing scream of agony echoed down the halls._

* * *

Mike stared at Freddy with a look of horror on his face as the bear finished his story.

"...the bite of '87..." Mike uttered once he'd finally managed to find his voice again, "but...I don't...what does any of that have to do with you?"

Freddy's cruel smile returned as he looked the night guard in the eye. "What, you think that piece of junk just happened to 'malfunction' and tore a chunk of that idiot's brain clear out of his head purely by coincidence?"

Mike blinked in shock as he beheld the true horror of the nightmare standing before him, but his gaze wandered to the space behind the bear as he realized they were no longer alone...

The muffled sound of a door creaking open and colliding with the wall beside it alerted Freddy to their guests' arrival as he whirled around to face an aghast looking Bonnie, Chica who wore an unreadable expression, and a very, very irate looking Foxy the Pirate.

"You..." Foxy ground out, his voice dripping with malice. For the first time in almost a week, Mike found himself frightened of the pirate, jolting slightly as Foxy rushed forward and crashed into Freddy, whirling the bear around and pinning him to the wall.

"IT WAS YOU?! YER THE REASON FER ALL ME SUFFERIN'?" Foxy practically howled in the bear's face.

Freddy, the look of absolute shock and surprise not fading from his visage, muttered something Mike wasn't quite able to make out at first.

"Speak sense ye traitorous bilge," Foxy bit out with a growl, "whaddya mean ye did it fer _us!?_ Ye know as well as I do that what happened in '87 is the reason I been banished ta' the brig fer over a decade!"

Freddy struggled in the pirate's grip, clearly surprised that he was unable to escape despite his considerable advantage in terms of sheer bulk.

"Let go of me you moron," Freddy growled threateningly, still struggling against the pirate's ironclad grip before turning to face the others.

"A little help!?" Freddy shouted at Bonnie and Chica, both of whom still looked a bit unsure of what to make of the situation. Clearly, they'd heard everything the bear had said since he entered the small room with Mike, having been strategically positioned near the rarely used and often forgotten door that lead from the backstage directly to Pirate Cove...just as Mike and Foxy had planned. The plan had been to see if Mike could talk some sense into the maniacal animatronic, and to give Bonnie and Chica a chance to hear the night guard out, while keeping Foxy in range to intervene if need be...but this particular turn of events...had not been anticipated.

"Seriously!? All three of you would STILL be rotting away in that forsaken place if I hadn't done something about it! You never would have been repaired or given new purpose if they hadn't needed us to replace those pieces of junk- I did what I had to do!" Freddy shouted at them, the last few words directed at Foxy.

Mike was certain Freddy would have been huffing angrily if he were able, and he almost wish he had been, as the eerie silence that fell over the room following the bear's outburst caused him to shift uncomfortably. He couldn't help but feel like he had walked in on a very private conversation, one that he didn't need, or want, to hear.

It was then that Freddy's gaze found him again. No doubt the bear had forgotten the night guard was even in the room with them in the chaos of the last few minutes, but now, reminded of Mike's presence, the bear's fury was evident on his features as he resumed his struggling.

"YOU! This is all _your_ fault!" Freddy's calm and collected facade had completely shattered as he tore free of Foxy's grip and lunged at Mike, arms outstretched before him and murder in his darkened eyes.

Foxy, momentarily stunned by Freddy suddenly bursting out of his grip, immediately set after him, the bear's large hands having once again found their way to Mike's throat. Foxy collided roughly with Freddy and began pulling at the bear's shoulders as Mike's hands clawed uselessly at the bear's thick arms. Panic overwhelmed the pirate as he saw Mike's eyes begin to roll backwards into his head as Freddy's grip threatened to crush the guard's trachea.

Suddenly, a pair of large, purple arms seized Freddy's midsection, wrapping around the raging animatronic in the most literal bear hug one could possibly imagine. The combined might of Foxy and Bonnie were fortunately enough to pull the bear away from the struggling guard, who clutched at his already bruised throat and doubled over, alternating between coughing and gasping for air as tears burned his eyes.

Foxy shared a meaningful look with Bonnie, giving the large rabbit a thankful nod before turning his attention back to Mike. "Are ye alrigh', lad?" Foxy asked, relieved when Mike managed a thumbs up motion after a few more rasping breaths.

Freddy on the other hand, had gone completely still in their grip, like so much dead weight as he hardly made an effort to stand under his own power, his eyes, now completely devoid of light, cast straight down toward the ground as he hung his head.

" _So, that's how it's gonna be, huh?_ "

Mike's head snapped up as the unknown voice echoed throughout the small room, its tone icy and disturbingly calm. A deeply unsettling feeling took root in Mike's gut as he realized he recognized it, somewhat, but couldn't figure out from when or where.

Foxy and the others turned their heads all around the room, searching for the voice's owner, clearly just as confused as Mike was, before it spoke again.

" _Four against one? That's hardly fair. I suppose I'll have to...even the odds, a bit,"_ the voice crooned as Mike noticed what appeared to be a largely transparent figure hovering just above the trio of animatronics before him, directly over Freddy's head.

And then, just as quickly as he had noticed it, it was gone, giving Mike nothing more than a brief glimpse at the creature's ...face, a single, solitary detail dominating his perception as he tried to recall its visage...

It wore a white mask.

* * *

 **[A/N] Yikes. So, it's been quite a while since the last update. This past month or so has been extremely hard for me, enough that I wasn't sure I was ever going to return to this story. And yet, here we are, with the longest chapter to date, no less. Let's finish this thing. As always, if you liked it, please leave a review. Ya'lls follows/favorites/reviews help keep me motivated. Thanks for reading.~ Cap**


	12. Chapter 12, Part 1: Tension Rising

An eerie silence settled over the darkened room, interrupted only by the sounds of labored breathing and the occasional whir of machinery.

"What the hell was that thing?"

Three glowing pairs of eyes simultaneously turned towards Mike, sending a chill up his spine as he scrambled backwards, reflexively, stopping only when he collided with the cold metal of Foxy's legs.

"Aye, I be wonderin' the same thing," Foxy added as he regarded the other animatronics with caution.

Bonnie shrugged his shoulders as best he could while still supporting the dead weight of a passed out Freddy Fazbear in his arms. "I didn't get a good look at it, but that voice did sound awfully familiar," Bonnie mused, his gaze growing distant as he stared up at the ceiling as if trying with all his might to recall an elusive memory.

"I'm less concerned with what it was than I am with what it said," Chica surprised the group by stating matter-of-factly.

"Er...aye, that too," Foxy said, still shocked at Chica's sudden contribution to the topic at hand. The chicken had always been fairly reserved, and typically kept her thoughts to herself. The fact that even she was openly concerned only served to worsen Foxy's anxiety.

"Don't get me wrong, though, I'm not looking to be dragged into whatever _this_ is," Chica continued, gesturing between Foxy, Mike and Bonnie with her wing.

"I don't think you have much choice... it did say that " _ **four**_ _against one_ " wasn't " _fair_ ", after all, and I don't think it was including ol' Freddy here," Bonnie observed as he lowered said bear from his gasp and propped him up against the wall in a reclining position. "Sorry, Chi," he added, earning a glare from the yellow animatronic.

"I _hate_ it when you call me that. Don't. Do. It. Again," Chica snapped, stabbing her wing in Bonnie's direction and prompting a frustrated sigh from the rabbit.

"That's not fair! You don't get all upset when Freddy does it!" Bonnie balked, thrusting his finger in Freddy's face for emphasis.

Mike simply gaped at the scene unfolding before him. As a result of his discussions with Foxy over the past few days, he would've thought it hard to be surprised to discover that the other animatronics possessed distinct personalities and mannerisms just like the pirate did, and yet he couldn't shake that same, vague discomfort he felt when he had first discovered Foxy's sentience. These guys had tried to _murder_ him only days ago, and yet here they were, arguing among themselves as if they were completely normal people.

He was actually finding it a little hard to not get pissed off. Despite his desire to empathize with them as the victims of a terrible fate, this evidence of the animatronics' capacity for rational thought which should have _at some point_ prompted at least one of them to say, "Hey, maybe this whole _murdering innocent people_ thing is kinda messed up," was really rubbing him the wrong way. Were they just complete psychopaths at this point, driven mad simply by the nature of their existence?

Mike's inner turmoil had gone unnoticed, and was only made worse by Bonnie and Chica's continued argument, until...

"Will you two just shut the hell up already!?" Mike bellowed in frustration, much to the surprise of everyone else in the room as Foxy's jaw fell open in shock, Bonnie stared wide-eyed and Chica shot him a look that would kill, if such a thing were possible.

The tense silence was broken shortly thereafter, however, as Bonnie attempted to stifle a giggle as he glanced up at Foxy.

"I think I see why you like him so much, Foxy," Bonnie managed between fits of laughter, "he sounds just like you."

Mike felt Foxy shift behind him as the pirate retreated a couple paces, creating some space between them and causing Bonnie to roll his eyes as he regained his composure.

"Anyway," Bonnie continued, "what're we gonna do about Freddy?"

"'m not really bothered with Fazbear right now, we need ta' get th' lad outta here, before that thing comes back," Foxy stated authoritatively.

"Excuse me? What do you mean 'we'? Whatever you're planning, leave me out of it," Chica said, crossing her wings in front of her stubbornly as she leveled a defiant gaze at the others.

"That be fine by me so long as ye stay outta our way," Foxy replied coolly.

Just then, the crashing boom of what sounded like several heavy objects crashing to the ground rang throughout the restaurant, causing the denizens of the backstage to collectively tense up as they turned their heads towards the door, each allowing themselves to relax only after several uneventful minutes had passed.

"Righ', no sense in waitin' around for that thing ta' find us cowerin' in 'ere," Foxy said, looking to Mike, "Ya got yer keys on ye, aye'?"

Mike nodded as he thrust his hand into his pants pocket, searching for and finding the cold metal of his key-ring with his fingers, just to be certain.

"Good lad. Ye can use the back exit, its abou' a plank's length from 'ere, should be smooth sailin'," Foxy instructed in his best attempt to sound confident.

"'We'," Mike corrected him, " _we_ can use the back exit."

The pirate rounded on him with a tired sigh. "Mikey, ye promised me."

"No, that's beyond stupid. Why stay and play the hero when we can just walk right out the back door!" Mike protested.

"I can't jes leave-"

"They can come too, for all I care!" Mike shouted exasperatedly, causing Bonnie, who had been watching their exchange with bewitched fascination, to perk up noticeably.

Foxy was momentarily thrown off by Mike's sudden offer, but knew it couldn't possibly be a serious one. He knew Mike would say anything to get his way, and, as much as he didn't want to, Foxy couldn't help but take a few moments to revel in light of the fact that Mike would go to such lengths to avoid abandoning him. It was as if he could feel what were once old and festering wounds beginning to mend. Not trusting himself to speak lest he betray the sudden swell of emotions he was feeling, Foxy simply nodded to signal his surrender on the matter, and headed for the door.

Poking his head out into the hallway, however, was all it took for the grim reality of their circumstances to come crashing down upon him once more, as Foxy stared at the jagged pile of debris that now blocked the hallway to their immediate left. It would seem that the tumultuous crash they had felt and heard moments ago had been a result of the ceiling collapsing...just in front of the door to the service entrance.

"Shit," Foxy heard Mike utter from beside him, the young night guard having poked his head out from the backstage as well.

Slipping back inside the room, they formed a loose huddle, with Chica hanging back just far enough to display her lack of interest despite very obviously wanting to hear what was said.

"Now what?" Mike whispered urgently.

"Well, if the service entrance is blocked off, the only other way out...is through the front door," Bonnie offered meekly.

"Aye," Foxy said with a snort, "m'sure it be no accident, either. Mikey, stay close ta' me."

Thinking quickly, Mike ducked back into the room and past a quizzical looking Chica to grab hold of the large butcher knife he had grabbed from the kitchen earlier, unsure of what good it would do to protect him from a malicious spirit, but simply holding it made him feel slightly more secure.

Rejoining the others at the door with a nod, Mike readied himself for the worst as they stepped out into the smothering silence of the restaurant proper with Foxy in the lead.

They crept down the back hallway and entered the main party hall as quietly as they could, which wasn't very, what with Foxy's exposed limbs clanking softly on the tile floor with every step they took, causing every muscle in Mike's body to tense with anticipation as they inched closer to their salvation.

Mike could hardly see more than a foot in front of him, only able to make out the red form of Foxy in front of him and the purple blob that was Bonnie following closely behind. He was finding it extremely difficult to stave off the anxiety growing in his guts, being sandwiched between two of his would-be murderers, but managed to swallow his stress and focus on the situation at hand as his eyes darted in all directions for any signs of activity. Unfortunately, what he failed to notice was that Foxy had stopped walking, and he crashed directly into the pirate's back with a yelp.

"O-oof! Foxy what the hell!..." Mike whispered, irritated, until he noticed the pirate's wide eyes and agape expression, his jaw opening and closing as if he were trying to say something.

Limited by his human eyesight as he was, Mike couldn't make out what had horrified the pirate through the inky darkness in front of them. Casting a cautious glance back at the still petrified fox, he advanced toward what he assumed must be the restaurant's entrance.

It was then that the smell hit him.

It was almost indescribable, like nothing he had ever smelled before. It was beyond foul, and he was possessed by a powerful urge to vomit as the sickeningly sweet smell of decay forced its way into his nostrils and down his throat, making his stomach churn. The smell was accompanied by the steady drip, drip, drip of what sounded like a a thick, slimy liquid drizzling down upon the floor.

"W-what the hell!?" Mike exclaimed, his face contorted in disgust.

" _Beautiful, aren't they? Though I imagine the smell is... less than pleasant,"_ crooned the haunting voice from earlier as it echoed throughout the party hall.

Mike had to shield his eyes as light suddenly flooded the room, sending him stumbling backwards, disoriented. Once the fleeting incapacitation had passed, Mike lowered his hand from his face, and quickly adopted a look of horror that mirrored Foxy's.

Torn, tattered and bloodstained shreds of faded indigo clothing sparsely covered twisted and emaciated limbs...gaunt faces with dark craters where eyes should have been stared forward hauntingly...flesh like old parchment paper, dry and cracking in some places, and soggy and drooping in others...

Mike's heart hammered out a frantic beat as his mind raced towards the inevitable conclusion...

...these were his predecessors.

…these were the former night guards of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

* * *

 **[A/N] Apologies for such a short chapter after a relatively long hiatus. Consider this a preview of the final confrontation. Chapter 12 Part 2 should be up in relatively short order. Hope you're all having a wonderful holiday. ~Cap**


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